The Baby Games
by WritingForHugs
Summary: It was an accident. And it was all started by two names, out of at least one hundred. What are the odds of that happening? Rated M for language and lemons. Slightly OOC and a few unlikely Panem events. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: The Trouble starts

**So, I'm back! I've been planning this story for ages, and now I've finally written it down :) Read and review! Tell me what you think, because I'm not sure if I like how the first chapter has gone... ah well.**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I stretch my limbs under the thin blanket that covers me and sigh, my knuckles and toes clicking.

It's the middle of August. Even with all the windows thrown open, and only a thin raggedy blanket covering me, the summer heat is still coming in.

I feel sticky, and sweaty, and horrible. I look to my left and see Prim curled up beside Mom. Buttercup, the ugly cat Prim insisted we keep, sits at my sister's feet, his yellow eyes fixed on me and his tattered ears pointing forward.

"What do you want?" I hiss as I swing my legs over the edge of the straw mattress and slip on my hunting boots. Buttercup's ears twitch but he remains still, watching me leave the room. I splash some cold water onto my face from the sink to wake me up and braid my hair into a neater plait.

As I pass the kitchen table, an upturned wooden bowl catches my eye. Pausing, I lift the bowl an find a goat's cheese wrapped in basil leaves from Prim. I smile to myself and the slip the cheese into my pocket of my father's hunting jacket, before stepping out of the relative cool of the house and into the heat of the morning the sun. It's a blazing by midday.

District 12 is quiet. The usual bands of workers heading to the mines are in bed, like everyone else, Merchant and Seam people alike. I see one other person on my walk to the meadow, a young woman walking along the dusty path, a basket of laundry on her hip. I nod my head in greeting. We don't speak. No one wants to disturb the quiet. The only sounds to be heard are birds singing, the occasional barking dog or crying baby, and the trees rustling.

As usual, the fence surrounding the district is silent. I slide under the gap and head into the forest, my skin protected from the sun by the canopy of leaves above my head. I find my bow and arrows and sling the quiver on my shoulder.

The forest, although hidden under a thick canopy of leaves, is hot. And it's still the morning. The scattering of leaves underfoot crunch, but I'm not worried about scaring prey away.

All the animals are hiding from the heat, trying to stay cool. The occasional bird flies above me, and sometimes I catch the white tail of a rabbit running past me.

I sigh, my shoulders slumping, when I think of how hot it's going to be at school. Both school buildings are falling down in some places, and when it rains heavily, the roof leaks. In the winter it's icy cold, and everyone wraps up warm with scarves and gloves, even when we're inside.

But winter is much more bearable that summer. The rooms heat up like greenhouses. All the students are sitting there, baking, glued to their seats, sweat glistening on their red skin, flapping their shirts in the hopes of cooling themselves.

Merchant girls bring in expensive-looking fans to flutter, and sit there in thin cotton dresses, makeup running down their cheeks.

The other people, like the kids from the Seam, have learnt how to cope from the stifling heat. Firstly, you don't sit by a window unless there's a breeze or a tree right outside to keep you in the shade. Second, always wear light coloured clothing to reflect the heat.

And thirdly, don't wear too much makeup. I know several Seam kids who sometimes wear lipstick or a thick black coating on their eyelashes, but most go without. Then, at least, you don't look like you've melted in the sun at the end of the day.

"Hey Catnip," Gale greets me when I sit beside him at our usual meeting place- a rocky ledge overlooking the valley.

"Hi Gale." I say, leaning my back against the rock.

Gale Hawthorne and I have been friends for many years. We're often mistaken as being brother and sister, our dark hair and grey eyes –signature attributes to the Seam- but in truth we're just hunting partners. Good friends that hunt together. Hawthorne and Everdeen are two names that are put together a lot. They seem right.

"Look what I shot." Gale says with a smirk on his lips. He holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck through the middle.

"This is real bakery bread Gale!" I exclaim, taking the still-warm loaf in my hands and bringing it to my nose, inhaling the delicious scent. Gale must have been at the bakery at dawn to trade.

"How much did it cost?" I ask him.

"Only a squirrel," Gale shrugs. "Maybe he was feeling sentimental this morning." He smiles at me.

"Prim brought us a cheese." I say, pulling the cheese from my pocket.

"Thank you, Prim. We'll have a feast." Gale grins. He slices the bread and spreads on the cheese. I pull a handful of berries from the nearby bushes.

I lay back in the sun after I've finished eating, my mouth open to catch the berries Gale is throwing in my direction.

"Why was the baker feeling sentimental?" I ask my friend, turning my head to face him.

"Haven't they told you?" Gale asks, his eyes twinkling. I frown.

"Who has told me what?"

"Oh, Catnip…" Gale says, tucking his arms behind his head. "I can't believe they didn't tell you." He chuckles to himself. "That or you weren't listening when they read out the morning announcements."

"I was listening. I always listen," I remark. Gale grins. "Most of the time." I add quietly.

"It's Baby Day today," Gale says.

"Baby Day?" I frown. "Oh no! It isn't today is it?"

"Uh... Yeah," Gale says. I sit upright and groan. "You didn't listen."

"Whatever…" I mutter, staring out at the green valley in front of us.

Baby Day is day 1 of a school project. Exclusive to District 12, it's the schools way of teaching us how to be good parents. It's also the teacher's idea of watching their pupils make fools of themselves.

The actual project is called The Baby Games. It involves each student being paired up with someone. This couple then has to look after a sack of flour for a 9 month period, the _9_ month time-span going the with the theme of _babies_. Each couple is quizzed, set tasks and at the end of the project, if the bag of flour has been damaged, lost or used in food, you fail.

The Baby Games account for 90% of my final grade at the age of 16. If I fail, I retake every single exam- with my 'husband'- during the summer.

The reason for doing this still escapes me.

"I remember my Baby Games," Gale interrupts my thoughts.

"If you're gonna get all 'when I was sixteen…' on me, I'm going to leave right now." I warn my friend. Gale grins.

"When I was sixteen, I was paired up with Lydia Whesters. You know, the daughter of the blacksmith."

"Doesn't she have a younger brother?" I ask.

"Yeah. He's called Bron. He's in your year," Gale tells me. "Maybe you'll get paired up with him." He nudges me in the ribs.

"No thanks," I scoff, picturing the blonde-haired boy who once dipped the ends of my braid into the ink well on his desk. "What happens?" I ask.

"In the project?" Gale looks up at me and I nod.

"Yeah, what do you do?"

"I guess you'll find out later today." Gale grins.

"Tell me!" I say, pushing Gale on the arm.

"I'm not gonna say anything." Gale grins, standing up and brushing the back of his pants. "You'll just have to wait."

"I'm glad that you're so eager to prepare me to the worst project in Panem."

"It isn't that bad actually," Gale says, causing me to roll my eyes. "Lydia was really fun to work with, and you get a lot of laughs from it. Memories that stick with you." I follow my friend into the forest.

"I'm dreading the Reaping." I sigh, treading lightly on the soft ground beneath my feet.

"Why?"

"Because it's just an excuse for the Merchant kids to show off in their best clothes, and for everyone to be embarrassed by going up on stage." Gale shakes his head in amusement.

"The Reaping isn't the worst bit… trust me." Gale says.

"What's the worst then? And the easiest bit?"

"The Reaping is probably the easiest bit." Gale says, stopping by a towering oak tree to reset a trap. "The hardest bit is probably the interviews, or the maybe it's all the lessons…" He looks up at me and grins.

"The lessons?" I ask.

"I'm not telling you any more," I sigh. "You've already tricked me into telling you some of things that happen." I laugh and walk away.

After trading at the Hob, Gale and I go our separate ways. A tub full of water waits for me when I arrive home, and I scrub myself clean, washing away all the dirt and grease from my hair.

"Why is this thing such an event?" I ask as we sit at the table for lunch, twisting my head, my braid pulling at my scalp. "It's just a school project."

"The government sees it as a way of bringing students together, creating bonds between members of the district, and preparing teenagers for the future," Mom explains. I laugh. "It's an excuse for parties and food and celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" I continue.

"Oh, come on Katniss," Mom says, causing me to look up. "Are you really going to turn down an excuse to have good time?" I look down. "That's what I thought." She adds and I smile. "At least try to have a good time." Mom tells me.

"I will." I promise.

"Primrose, can you put the dishes in the sink?" Mom asks. Prim nods and collects the dishes. "I know you've had to grow up way too fast, Katniss," Mom says, gripping my arm tightly as soon as Prim is occupied. "And I'm sorry. I know it was all my fault, for zoning out when... he...passed away."

"You were grieving. You had every right to-"

"No, I didn't," Mom, says, fiercely. I blink in surprise. "I had no right to abandon my daughters. If I had got my butt into gear, we would have savings, a better life." She pauses and smoothes down a part of my hair that has become undone.

"Mom…" I begin.

"No, listen to me," Mom interrupts me. "I want you to go to school with a smile on your face. I want you to enjoy this project. I hope it brings you memories as good as mine. I want you to be a teenager."

"I am a teenager." I state stubbornly.

"Not a normal one." Mom says sadly. She squeezes my hand and smiles at me. "Now, you better get going. You don't want to be late."

"I love you, Mom." I say, the words alien to me.

"I love you too." Mom says as Prim walks back over to us, her schoolbag in hand. Mom pulls away and continues sewing up an old blouse.

"See you later." Prim says, kissing her on the cheek. I sling my bag over my shoulder and following Prim out the door.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

The Reaping of The Baby Games starts at 2pm sharp. All students, whether they are at First School or Second, are expected to be at school at midday, so that all pupils in my year can be prepped for The Baby Games.

You'd think that every single person in District 12 would be in bed, sleeping in. The mines are closed for today, so that gives everyone an even better reason to sleep.

But not us. Not the Mellark family.

As usual, Mom wakes me up along with my brothers at 6am with a shout of:

"Get up! You lazy good-for-nothings!"

I groan and roll over onto my stomach, hiding my head under my pillow. My father knocks on my bedroom door.

"Come one Peet, get up," He says softly. "You don't want to be late."

"School doesn't start 'till 12." I complain, looking up at Dad with bleary eyes.

"But you still need to help out at the bakery." Dad says with a half-apologetic smile.

"Alright," I mumble. "I'll be down in a minute." Dad nods and shuts the door and I drag myself out of bed.

My room is cool, thanks to my habit of sleeping with the windows open. I have the smallest room in the house, with only enough space for a bed, wardrobe, chair and a sink that was built with the house, but I'm happy. It's my own space and it means I don't have to share a room with Rye or Fen.

I head to the sink and scrub my face with cold water to wake myself up. Then I pull on a clean t-shirt and my worn baking trousers form the day before.

"Hurry up Peet." Fen says when I enter the kitchen.

"I know, I know." I mumble, grabbing an apron and tying it around my waist.

"You're normally the first one down here."

"And Rye's _always_ the last," I say. Fen looks up and grins. "I just don't want to get up so early on days like this."

"Days like this?" Fen asks, stoking the fire. "Brother, there's only gonna be one day like this in your entire life." I open my mouth to answer when Rye enters the room and cuts me off.

"It's Reaping Day, Peet!" He says, stretching his arms above his head. "It's time for The Baby Games!" My brothers' exchange glances.

"I know," I say, washing my hands. "We were told about it in the morning announcements ages ago."

"Looking forward to it?" Fen asks.

"I guess so," I admit. "But I don't really know what it's about, so I don't know."

"Well, it's basically just one big party. For nine months you practically pretend to be married to girl, despite not being 17 yet."

"Huh?"

"You get reaped with someone, and you're taught things, quizzed and at the end you have a big exam in the hall at the end of the 9 months." Fen explains.

"What were your Games like?" I ask my brothers, measuring out ingredients.

"Mine was amazing, " Rye says. "Every single girl wanted to be with me," I roll my eyes. "It was easy, and that's why I passed."

"Ha! Barely passed, don't you mean?" Fen scoffs.

"It's not my fault, my overall test was marked down for taping the damned thing back together." Rye narrows his eyes.

"Whatever…" Fen grins. "My Games, however, were the last of their kind. You two-" He points to Rye and I. "Got the updated books, and rules, and teachers."

"And that meant that you got it easy." Rye grumbles.

"Should I be worried?" I ask.

"Nah, I'm sure you'll be fine," Fen says. "It isn't that bad actually. I gotten a lot of good memories and made new friends from the Games."

"But here are a few words of advice," Rye begins, an evil glint in his eyes. "Don't take it the wrong way if you're partnered with a guy."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Oh, come on Peeta," Rye says. "Tell me that you don't honestly think there's an equal male to female ratio in your year group. Of course there's a chance you'll be put with a guy." He gives me a pointed look.

"Well, at least with a guy you wont have to knock them up." Fen says with a laugh.

"What?" I exclaim. "What are you talking about?" Fen's face falls and he looks over a Rye, who's dropped the towel he was holding.

"Peeta. You have to have a family with the person you're reaped with." Fen says. My eyes widen.

"No you don't. You're messing with me." I say, shaking my head.

"We aren't messing with you." Rye says solemnly.

"If that's true, where are your kids then?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"We both had male partners." Fen says. My eyebrows knit together.

"I don't believe you."

"Why?"

"It's preposterous!" I say. "They can't do that!"

"Sure they can," Fen says. "The government wants to pair people up and control the population."

"Why else do you think they're teaching us how to raise families?"

"You never know, this year may be the year that the Mellark curse is broken." Rye sighs longingly.

"No! I can't!" I exclaim.

"Peeta, all three of us are products of the Games." Fen says.

"But I wont! They… they!" I look around in shock.

My brothers simultaneously burst out laughing.

"Christ Peet! We're fucking with you!" Rye says, clutching at his stomach.

"Your face! Bloody brilliant!" Fen grins, tears rolling down his cheeks. My brother's high-five each other and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"_I_ can't believe you believed _us_!" Rye continues.

"Never do that to me again. Ever," I say. "Don't mess with me, and I wont mess with you."

"Oh my god." Rye says, struggling to breath properly. Fen's face is red as he tries to calm down, only to burst out laughing again.

"What are you lot laughing about?" Dad asks, coming into the kitchen. "I don't pay you to mess around."

"We got him Dad, and we got him good." Fen says, glancing at me, his eyes shining.

"Ah, the old 'Mellark curse' eh?" Dad chuckles, slapping me on the back. "Don't worry Peeta, it's a Mellark tradition."

"We tell all the Mellark kids about to be reaped."

"My Dad told me, I told fen, Fen told Rye, and by the looks of it, you've just been pranked."

"So now I tell my kids?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and trying to fight the smile creeping upon my lips.

"You're only sixteen, son. Don't get any ideas." Dad says with a smirk. "But that's what we do, scare the living daylights out of the boys in the family." I pause, staring at my father and brothers.

"I hate you," I state. "I hate you all." I say, my lips curving upwards into a laugh as I shake my head. "You just wait, I'm gonna get you too."

"Oo-er." Rye says, waggling his fingers in my face.

"Alright guys, you've had your fun," Dad says, taking a few trays out to the front of the shop. "Get back to work."

"I wish I had a camera." Rye says when Dad is gone.

"You looked so freaked out!" Fen laughs.

"You freaked me out!" I snap, chucking a damp rag at Fen's face.

I walk down the road to school, running my hand through my hair to mess it up. Mom demands that my hair is combed down for school, but I always mess it up before I get anywhere near the school gates.

"Hey! Peeta!" Mitch calls me over, waving his hand in the air as I step through the gates. I walk over to my friends, who are huddled around someone or something.

"What's going on?" I ask, peering over Mitch's shoulder. Bron Whesters sits on a tree stump, shuffling coins on a board perched on his lap, scribbling down names and numbers on a piece of paper.

"Everyone's betting on who's getting partnered with who." Mitch explains.

"Have you put anything in?" I ask.

"Yeah, I've bet on you." My eyes widen.

"What?" I exclaim. "What did you bet on?"

"That you and a person from the Seam get picked." Mitch smirks. My mouth drops open.

"If my Mom hears about this, she's gonna be furious." I say.

"Exactly," Mitch says. "But, come one Peeta, what are the odds that you get picked with a Seam kid? Everyone knows that Merchants are paired with Merchants."

"But the odds are still about 50:50," I point out. "Anything could happen." Mitch shrugs.

"Are you betting?" Mitch asks. I rummage in my pockets and find a handful of coins.

"I'll bet all I've got in my pocket."

"What on?" Mitch asks.

"That you'll get partnered with another guy or Kaytee Crick." I say with.

"I'd rather get paired with a guy than Kaytee Crick." Mitch grimaces.

Mitch _hates_ Kaytee Crick. He says she's a stuck up slut who thinks she can do what she wants when she wants it.

I agree with him. I don't think the fact that her parents spoil her helps at all.

"Are you sure?" I ask, punching Mitch lightly on the shoulder.

"Oh, I'm really, really sure." Mitch says, shaking his head.

I hand Bron my money and he writes down my name, money being bet, and what I'm betting on.

The school bells rings and Bron stands up, packing away the money.

"Betting's closed," He says, looking around at the guys gathered around him. "May the odds be ever in your favour." He grins.

"Christ, I hope so." Mitch mutters as we walk away towards the school.

I look around the school hall, wondering whether the patched-up roof will ever fall in. I shift my weight as I stare around the hall.

I could be paired with any of the students standing. In less than twenty minutes, my name will be pulled from one of the glass bowls along with someone else's. I swallow, running a hand though my hair.

I glance over at the girl's side and my eyes end up drifting over to one girl in particular.

A Seam girl, with her long dark hair in a thick braid, her tanned skin evidence of hours spent in the woods, scanning the people around her with a roll of her sparkling grey eyes.

I watch her, a smile on my lips. I've loved her for as long as I can remember. I've never had the courage to talk to her, though her unapproachable personality and almost permanent scowl makes her a bit intimidating.

"Settle down please, settle down." The headmaster shouts over the crowd of teenagers in front of him.

"Oi!" A loud voice shouts from the back of the hall. "Shut up!" I turn my head and see a very grumpy looking man standing at the back of the room, glaring at us. We fall silent, with only a few people left muttering to each other.

"Err, thank you…" The Head thanks the man and taps the microphone, causing the student body to wince and cower in their seats as a high pitched wail echoes around the room. "Hello, students, and welcome to the start of this years Baby Games!" He begins clapping, and after a few seconds, we begin clapping too.

"Now, I'm going to hand right over to Effie Trinket, the Head of The Baby Games! It's time for the Reaping." The Head says, smiling down at the audience.

A woman dressed completely in pink clacks down the centre of the hall, in-between the roped-in students, and climbs up the steps with a wide smile on her face.

"Welcome, welcome!" She grins, her Capitol accents still obvious in her voice, despite being in District 12 for many years.

"Jesus Christ…" Mitch mutters from beside me holding his head in his hands.

"I'd like to welcome you to the first day of a fantastic project," Effie smiles. "Now, it's time for the Reaping! I will pick one name from each bowl. Ladies first!" She walks across the stage, not wobbling at all in her ridiculously high heels.

The crowd waits with baited breath as Effie's manicured hand disappears in the little slips of paper.

"Kaytee Crick!" She reads out. Kaytee smoothes her dress and walks onto the stage. Beside me, Mitch freezes. He looks at me, his eyes wide. My eyes follow Effie to the other side of the stage as she picks out another slip of paper. Kaytee leans forward, slightly, biting her lip.

"Davis Clapton!" Effie reads out with a smile. Mitch almost faints with relief. I punch him on the shoulder. A tall light-haired boy steps up onto the stage and shakes Kaytee's hand. They step to the side of the stage. The Reaping continues.

Mitch gets called up, and is paired with Valerie Thread, much to his relief, and stands with her at the side of the room.

I watch the crowd of people around me growing smaller, and the girl's side diminishing. I clasp my hands behind my back and look around. There must be about twenty other males around me, and about sixteen girls on the other side of the hall.

Someone, possibly me, could be paired with somebody of the same gender. I swallow. I don't really want that to happen to me.

Effie, who has read the names out as quickly as she can, picks another name out of the bowl. And it isn't me. I kick the ground with the toe of my boot.

My heart leaps when I hear Effie read out one name in particular.

"Katniss Everdeen," She says. I glance at Katniss, who has looked up. "Come on up!" Effie smiles. Katniss shoots the Mayor's daughter, Madge Undersee, a look and walks up onto the stage.

I wonder who she'll be paired with. She could be a paired with Bron, or Dale, or Sammy. Maybe she'll be paired with another Seam kid. I can imagine that she'd prefer that, instead of being with a townie-

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie smiles. I feel my jaw fall slack. I catch Mitch's eye and he stares at me, his mouth stretched into a misbelieving grin. He mouths _'I won the bet' _at me and shakes his head. I look back at Effie, who is staring at me, waiting. I walk forward, up onto the stage.

Katniss stands on the other side of the stage, her eyes wide. She turns her head to look at me, and stretches out her hand to shake mine. I clasp her cold, thin hand in mine and squeeze it reassuringly. She gives me an odd look and pulls her hand away, staring out over the dwindling group of students with a stony expression.

"Of you go, you two. To the side of the hall." Effie says, placing a hand on my shoulder and pushing me forward.

Katniss jumps down the steps and walks to the side of the room, putting a few meters from the rest of the paired people. She folds her arms over her chest and leans against the wall. I shove my hands deep into my pockets and lean next to her.

"I'm sorry." Katniss says softly, looking at me.

"Huh?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. '_Great start Peeta.' _I think to myself.

"I'm sorry you've been paired with me." Katniss says.

"Why would- it's fine. I don't mind…" Katniss raises an eyebrow and looks up at me. "No, I didn't mean it like that-"

"I know what you meant. I think." Katniss cuts me off. She shoots me a small smile before looking back up at Effie, who is sorting the last names in the bowls. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her smile. I exhale and grin.

I've been Reaped with _Katniss Everdeen_. Of all people! I lean back, my head against the wall as I stare at the ceiling.

Let the Baby Games begin.


	2. Chapter 2: The Dinner

**Hello again! Here's chapter 2. Thanks for the response to this! I'm going to try to update as much as I can, but I'm doing my GCSE's at the moment and don't have very much spare time :( Anyway, on with the story…**

* * *

-Katniss-

* * *

School is over.

After the Reaping, we were sent home, the Merchant girls giggling and squealing to each other about their new partners and new dresses they're going to be wearing at the Reaping Dinner.

Yet _another_ over-rated event in this damned project.

Prim is bouncing along over the dry ground as we walk back home.

"Tell me, tell me, tell me!" Prim says, swinging on my hand. "Why won't you tell me?" She asks, her eyes bright.

"I'll tell you at dinner, when Mom comes back home." I promise.

"But you'll tell Gale in the woods, won't you?" Prim says with a raised eyebrow.

"Does it really matter who gets told first?" I ask. Prim narrows her eyes.

"Fine." She mutters. I punch her lightly on the shoulder and she grins.

After dropping Prim off at home and making her promise not to open the door unless it's someone she knows, I head straight for the forest.

The minute I'm under the canopy of leaves, I feel my skin tingling as it's hidden from the searing heat of the sun. I shoot down a rabbit on my way to Gale and mines meeting place, the scrawny brown animal barely enough for a meal. I put it in my game bag and climb the grassy slope, sitting against the rock that overlooks the valley and stretching my legs out. I pull off my leather hunting boots and roll my trousers up, leaning my head back against the rock to wait for Gale.

Peeta Mellark. The baker's son. I can remember how I felt when Peeta's name was ringing out through the school hall. All I could think was:

_Oh no, not him._

I rub my eyes and open them, squinting in the bright light. The clunk of heavy leather boots on rock cause me to look to the right, and Gale sits down beside me, a leaf in his hair.

"Here," I say, reaching out and pulling the leaf away. "You have this in your hair." I say, holding up the offending item.

"Oh, thanks," Gale grins. "So, how did the Reaping go?" I groan and shake my head. "Oh dear…" Gale laughs.

"It isn't funny!"

"It can't be that bad!" Gale says. "Unless you're paired with Lee Reynolds." He says. I grimace.

"Thank God." I say, imagining the overweight, red faced, greasy-haired son of the barber.

"Spill," Gale says, prodding me in the ribs. "Who's your _husband?"_ He continues, waggling his eyebrows.

"Guess."

"Okay, okay," Gale says, scratching his head as he thinks. "Is it a he?" He asks.

"Yes." I nod.

"Seam?"

"No…" I say, causing Gale to raise an eyebrow.

"Alright then…" He says. "Does he as siblings?"

"Gale, most of the townies have siblings." I point out.

"Is he a stuck-up snob?"

"I don't -"

"Most of the townies are stuck-up snobs." Gale mimics me. I shove his shoulder.

"He isn't stuck-up!" I say. "He seems like a nice guy."

"So he's a _nice townie_, with siblings…"

"This isn't really narrowing it down, is it?"

"I don't know any nice townies." Gale says, picking at a loose thread on the bottom of his shirt. I slap his hand away. Hazelle doesn't need another item of clothing to fix.

"Yeah you do." I say.

"Who?" My friend scoffs.

"Think about it!" I say, chewing on a mint leaf. "Who do you trade with almost every day?" Gale frowns.

"Madge? But I though you were with a guy?" He asks, confused.

"Really Gale? Really?" I ask.

"What?" he asks, raising his hands in the air.

"I'm paired with the baker's son." I mutter.

"Fenton?"

"No."

"Rye?"

"Oh for fucks sake! It's _Peeta_!" I say. Gale's eyes widen.

"Peeta Mellark?"

"Yes, Peeta Mellark," I say slowly. "Fenton and Rye aren't even in my year! I don't think Fenton is even in school anymore!"

"Peeta Mellark?" Gale asks again.

"Yes!" I exclaim impatiently.

"Huh." Gale says, standing up and brushing his pants down.

"Why are you 'huh'-ing?" I ask. "Don't 'huh' me and then walk away." I follow Gale into the forest.

"Nothing, I'm just saying that he doesn't seem like trouble." Gale says, jumping over a fallen tree.

"Who are you? My mother?" I ask sarcastically, scrambling over the rough bark. "Why do you care?"

"I'm just saying, wouldn't it be more interesting if you were paired with a more… spontaneous guy?"

"_Spontaneous_?"

"And exciting?"

"Excuse me?"

"And good-looking?"

"_Good-looking?" _I ask. "Gale, I've just met the guy. I've never spoken to him except for when we trade."

"I know."

"Then what is your problem?"

"My problem is that you're with a _Merchant_, Catnip," Gale says, his grey eyes hard as he whips around and stares at me. I roll my eyes.

"It's a school project, Gale," I say. "Why does it affect you if I'm doing a school project with a townie?"

"Aren't you annoyed?"

"I'm not really bothered." I say with a shrug of my shoulders. Gale rolls his eyes.

"I wouldn't have thought…" Gale says, before trailing off and continuing down the trail.

"What is it?" I ask him, following him with a frown.

"Nothing."

"Gale, it's obviously it's not 'nothing'." I say.

"I would've thought that you would be annoyed at being with a townie." Gale shrugs.

"It's fine, Gale," I say. "It's just a school project…"

"Yeah, sorry." Gale says. I smile up at him and we continue walking. A comfortable silence fills the air and I manage to shoot down three rabbits and a squirrel, Gale resetting his snares as he goes along, collecting two rabbits and a hare.

My clothes instantly stick to my skin as I enter the Hob, the warehouse heating up like a greenhouse. Vendors sit slouched behind their stands, trying to keep cool.

"I'm going to go trade for some shoelaces," Gale tells me, nudging me in the ribs. "I'll meet you at Sae's stall in a few minutes."

"Alright, see you then." I say. Gale walks away, and I head in the opposite direction, taking a seat at Greasy Sae's stall. "I've got a rabbit for you." I say, pulling the animal out of my bag.

"Thank you," Sae smiles, her face wrinkling. "You want some soup?"

"Yes please." I grin, rapping my knuckles on the uneven wooden surface of the stall. Sae smacks my hand with a wooden spoon and I sit on my hands, only removing them when Sae puts a bowl of soup in front of me.

"How'd it go?" Sae asks.

"Huh?"

"The Reaping? Who's your husband or wife?" She asks.

"It was fine," I shrug, stirring the spoon around the chipped enamel bowl. " I've been reaped with Peeta Mellark."

"Oh, fantastic!" Sae clasps her hands together. "He's a lovely boy, Peeta. Ever so polite. I've spoken to him several times, when he comes here to trade." I take another sip of the cooling broth. "Are you happy with Peeta?"

"Yeah," I say. "I suppose so. He seems nice enough."

"You excited about the rest of the project?"

"I don't know," I wrinkle my nose. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"She isn't worrying again, is she?" Gale laughs, sitting beside me and winking.

"Yep- just like you did when you were sixteen." Sae says with a knowing smile.

"Did you cry Gale?" I ask with a grin. "Were you worried no-one would like you?"

"Haha." Gale says, his grey Seam eyes narrowed.

"You should've seen him. Terrified- that's a good word." Sae laughs. Gale sighs.

I finish eating, Sae places some gold coins into my hand, and we head to our respective homes.

"How long does it take to hunt and trade?" Prim exclaims, pouncing on me when I step into our house, the floorboards creaking under my weight.

"Well, I'll tell you what," I say kicking off my shoes. "Next time you can go and hunt. How about that?"

"Yeah, whatever," Prim giggles. "Now tell me who you're partnered with!"

"I made Gale guess, so you can guess too."

"I bet you didn't have to make Sae guess." Prim grumbles.

"Guess, Prim." I say.

"Merchant?"

"Yes."

"Baker?"

"Yes?" I say, staring suspiciously at my little sister as she swings her legs from her perch on the sofa.

"Peeta Mellark?"

"How did you guess so quickly?" I ask her, my eyes wide.

"Talia heard from her big sister that the boys were betting on who was getting with who and Mitch Jones won a load of money because he bet that Peeta would be with a Seam girl. And then Valerie was crying because she wanted to be with Peeta and she was paired with a Seam boy." Prim exhales loudly.

"Gossip spreads like wildfire…"

"Yeah." Prim says.

"Is Mom here?"

"No, she had to go and help someone on the other side of town." Prim explains.

A few hours later, Mom comes back home, her dress stuck to her skin after walking in the summer heat.

"There are mosquitoes everywhere!" She exclaims as she enters the kitchen.

"Do you want me to get some oil?" Prim asks, looking up from her homework.

"Rosemary oil, please." Our mother says. Prim closes her book, slipping her pencil in-between the leaves to save her place before walking out of the room. Mom puts her medical bag on the top of the cupboard and sits at the table, scratching at a red mark on her arm.

Prim comes back into the room with a small glass bottle in her hand. "Thank you." Mom says, twisting the cap of the bottle and dabbing a small amount onto her arm. The smell of rosemary fills the room and I inhale- the smell reminding me of the forest in spring. I start to chop one of the rabbits and put it into a stew. Prim washes her hands and slices some of the bread we made from the grain allowance.

Twenty minutes later, I ladle some of the stew into two bowls and we sit down at the kitchen table.

"Don't eat too much Katniss," Mom warns me as I bite into a slice of bread. "You don't want to spoil your appetite."

"I'll only eat a little bit." I promise.

"How did it go?" Mom asks.

"It went alright," I say. "I've been paired with Peeta Mellark." Mom's eyes brows raise, and her blue eyes brighten.

"Ahh, Farrell's son," She says. "He's a nice boy."

"Don't you trade with him?" Prim pipes up.

"Yes," I nod. "But not all the time. It's normally his father that I trade with."

"I bet it's going to be beautiful." Prim says suddenly. Mom and I look at her and then glance at each other.

"What will?" Mom asks.

"The Reaping Dinner," Prim sighs. "They'll be food and lights and music and people in pretty clothes… I'm jealous."

"When you're sixteen, you'll be able to do this as well." I tell her. Prim shrugs and continues to eat.

The cherry wood clock sitting on the mantelpiece chimes, signalling that it's six o'clock. The dinner starts at seven.

"You should go and get washed." Mom says, mopping up the gravy from her plate with some bread. I nod and head to the living room, putting a bucket of water over the fire, the flames crackling and licking at the sides of the pail.

I stoke the fire, and soon enough the water is boiling. Lifting the bucket, I pour the steaming water into the warped metal bathtub we keep under a small desk that sits underneath the living room window. I add cold water to the tub and hang a blanket over the doorway. I pull off my clothes and slide into the water.

Stretching my arm forward, I grab a bar of soap from the basin sitting beside the bath and wash myself clean, scrubbing away the dirt, sweat and grime from my body.

I run my fingers through my braid, unravelling the complicated plait. Taking a deep breath, I submerge my head beneath the water. When I resurface, I lather my hair in thick bubbles washing away the oil. I hardly ever get to wash my hair. It feels strange for it to be clean.

I climb out of the bath and wrap myself in a towel.

"Katniss, honey, are you decent?" Mom asks from behind the curtain.

"Yeah, come on in." I say. Mom pushes the curtain aside and steps in.

"What do you want to wear?"

"I'll just wear some jeans and a clean shirt." I say with a small shrug.

"This is a dinner, darling." Mom says.

"So?"

"I've got something for you to wear," She says. I frown. "I want you to wear it, Katniss. Please."

"Let me see it." I say. Mom nods and gestures for me to follow her.

Following my mother into the bedroom shared by all three of our family I'm surprised and confused to find a dress from my mother's Merchant days lying on the bed.

It looks like it was once a deep royal blue, but now, after years of repeated washing, the colour has faded, leaving it sky blue and very soft.

"Are you sure?" I ask quietly. She nods and I pull it on, buttoning up the front and tying the back into a loose bow.

"You look lovely Katniss." Mom murmurs, sitting me down on a stool in front of Dad's old shaving mirror. It has a long jagged crack down the middle, but it's still useable. Mom kneels down in front of me and pulls a hair from my eyebrow.

"Ouch! What are you doing?" I ask, almost falling off the stool, rubbing my brow.

"I'm plucking your eyebrows." Mom shrugs.

"Why?" I ask, staring at her.

"It'll look nice!" Mom says. "Trust me, Katniss." She says. I sigh, and let her continue, wincing as my eyebrows get smaller and smaller in the mirror.

Mom leans back and observes her work. She puts a cool salve on my brows, and my stinging skin starts to feel better.

Mom towel-dries my hair and then combs it while it's damp. I watch her work, her brow creased in concentration as she twists my long dark hair into an intricate braid that curls around my head in delicate plaits.

"Keep your eyes open." My mother says, pulling out a small tube.

"Why?" I ask again.

"It's only makeup." She tells me. I frown. "Please, Katniss." She says. With a dramatic groan, I open my eyes. Mom coats my lashes with a dark coloured substance. "It makes your eyelashes look longer. And I think it makes your eyes pop." Mom says, smiling at me.

"Hmm." I grunt.

"How do you feel?" My mother asks. I blink several times, trying to get used to the heaviness of my eyes.

"Violated." I grumble. Mom grins.

"Sorry." She laughs.

I slip on a pair of pale brown shoes and I stand in front of my father's cracked shaving mirror. Mom was right; my eyebrows do look neat, and very un-Katniss. I wrinkle my nose.

"I'll wear Dad's hunting jacket."

"He would've liked that," Mom smiles. "Gale will be here in a minute. He agreed to walk you there."

My shoulders sag. "Mom, I didn't need someone to walk me to the school."

"It's for your own safety."

"What could possibly happen?" I ask, full well knowing the answer.

"You're a young girl out in the dark. Who knows who could be lurking in the shadows? Just waiting for someone like you to walk by." Mom's eyes are wide. "It'll give me a piece of mind."

"When will he be here?" I ask, defeated. I normally don't get on well with mother. I don't want to cause an argument.

"In a few minutes, I expect."

I stand and look at the mirror. I hold the skirts of the dress out.

"I wish I looked like you." Prim says. I turn and face my younger sister.

"Oh no, Little Duck. I'd much rather look like you." I say.

"Have you got makeup on? And have you plucked your eyebrows?" Prim asks incredulously.

"Obviously I didn't do it." I say. Prim giggles.

"It looks very nice, Katniss. You look pretty." Prim cocks her head to one side.

"Not as pretty as you." I say. She smiles at me and hands me my jacket.

"I'm going to wait outside for Gale," I say. "I'll see you later." I give Prim a hug and squeeze Mom's hand.

"Have fun!" Prim calls as I grab my jacket.

I sit on the front porch steps, chewing on a mint leave and scratching at Lady's ears.

A low whistle comes from the darkness.

"Whoa, Catnip. You clean up good." Gale steps out of the shadows. I stand, my cheeks reddening.

"Oh!" I say, looking down at my mother's dress. "This old thing? I threw it on."

"You sound like a townie." Gale laughs. I shove my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket as we walk through the dark streets.

Bugs swarm around lanterns, the air muggy as we walk to town, the dusty ground of the Seam turning into miss-matched paving stones and cobbled ground.

"Still feeling alright about Mellark?" Gale asks, glancing at me.

"Yeah," I shrug. "He seems nice."

"Good, good." Gale says. We fall into silence, but it isn't awkward or uncomfortable. I can here music and laughter as we turn the corner onto Upper School's road. At the school gates, Gale smiles at me. "You look nice, Catnip." He says with a tender smile. "I'll be here at ten."

"See you later." I say. Gale nods, and walks away, the moonlight glinting on the back of his leather jacket.

Taking a deep breath, I turn and walk through the school gates. I smooth down my hair and dress and push open the front door of the school.

"Katniss!" I turn and see Madge running down the corridor towards me, a golden headband in her hair, her made-to-fit dark pink dress rippling. "Hurry up! I've saved you a space."

Slightly bewildered, I let my friend drag me down the corridor.

"Girls, what are you doing out here?" Effie Trinket- the Head of the Baby Games- asks, stopping us at the door to the hall.

"I saved Katniss a space." Madge says.

"Alright, alright. Get inside and sit down." She says. Madge and I go inside and I gasp. The hall has been transformed. A small group of Merchants are on the stage, strumming guitars, and long tables are lined up around the edge of the room. I inhale.

"They did good, didn't they?" Madge says, noticing my expression and looking around the room.

"I wouldn't have thought this was our leaking school hall." I grin. Madge pulls me over to a table at the side of the room and we sit down. "How did they afford to get all this stuff? The food, the lights."

"My father offered to pay." Madge says softly. I think she actually a bit embarrassed that she comes from a family that has even a little bit of power.

"Your mother did your makeup and hair, didn't she?" Madge observes quietly. I look up.

"Yeah."

"It looks nice."

"Thanks." I say, a smile on my lips.

"Oh, look at Valerie's dress!" Madge coos. "Isn't it gorgeous?" I look up in the direction Madge is staring and see Valerie dancing with her friends, a soft-looking yellow dress reach the middle of her thighs.

"Yeah, it's beautiful." I murmur, looking down at the dress I'm wearing. I suddenly feel very poor. My dress is worn and patched up in some places.

The townie's clothes are near pristine- probably brought specially for this occasion.

"I heard some parents are actually trying to arrange for their children to be married," Madge whispers to me. I raise my eyebrows. "It's terrible."

"Have any of the marriages ever gone through?" I ask, leaning forward.

"Not that I've heard of." Madge grimaces, and then her eyes widen. She opens a small glittering purse sat in front of her and pulls something out, rolling it around in her fingers thoughtfully. "Katniss," She says, I look up.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to have this." She says, pressing a small metal pin into my palm. I look down at it, the golden metal glinting in the light. The pin is in the shape of a circle, a bird mid-flight with an arrow in its beak in the middle. "It was my aunt's, and she gave it to me. But I never wear it."

I shake my head. "Madge, this is too much- too pretty. I can't take it." I stretch my hand out to hand it back.

"I want you to have it," Madge insists. "Think of it as a gift." She smiles at me. I examine the pin. The metal is genuine- skilfully crafted by hand. It would feed my family for months if I sold it. I blink.

This is a _gift_. I can't trade it.

"Thank you, Madge."

"You're welcome. But I have one condition." Madge smiles.

"What is it?" I ask warily.

"You have to wear it. And not just once." Madge laughs.

"I will." I promise. Madge pins it on the front of my dress.

The music in the background stops and I look up. Effie Trinket stands behind the microphone, her pink hair perfectly coiffed into place.

"Welcome, welcome." She says with a wide grin. "I'd like to take a moment to congratulate you all on how beautifully dressed you all are!" I look over at Madge who rolls her eyes.

To Effie Trinket- who originates from the Capitol- we must all look like a bunch of rats in rags.

We tried our best. Jeez.

"For those of you who don't know, the Reaping Dinner is your chance to get to know your 'husband' or 'wife'"- She raises her painted fingers into the air and makes quotation marks-"before the Games officially start. Now, ladies and gentlemen, please locate your partner and take a seat!"

Almost immediately, a kind looking, blonde-haired boy sits beside Madge.

"Umm, Katniss, this is Mitch Jones." Madge says.

"Nice to meet you." I say. Mitch shakes my hand, a smile on his face.

"You're Peeta's 'wife' aren't you?" Mitch says. I nod. "Oh, he's looking for you."

"You know him?" I ask. Madge raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's my best friend." Mitch says with a smile. He looks around. Madge looks nervous, but happy. I must look petrified.

"Hey! Mellark!" Mitch shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth. I look around, and see Peeta spin around. He sees me and smiles. Hey walks towards us and sits beside me.

"Undersee." Peeta nods at Madge.

"Mellark." Madge replies.

"Katniss."

"Peeta." I smile faintly. Mitch lets out a breath of air.

"I can almost feel the tension." Mitch says suddenly, reaching out into the air between Peeta and I and pretending to grab at it. "Sexual or not, I'm still to decide."

Madge snorts and covers her mouth. I raise my eyebrows and look away.

"Fuck you, baker boy." Mitch says. I think Peeta kicked him.

**-Peeta-**

Mortified.

My cheeks are on fire. I glare at Mitch. How could he do that to me? He's knows I've loved Katniss for years, and now he goes and does this? I scrub my face with my hands and look at Katniss, who is staring, her lips pressed together, at a revolving sparkly ball hanging from the ceiling.

I look over at Mitch and Madge, who are actually talking to each other. I feel like Katniss and I are like chalk and cheese. We're completely different. I doubt- with a feeling of sadness- that we'll get on very well.

"Katniss?" I ask carefully. She turns her head to face me and I bite my lip. She looks so beautiful. "Sorry about, err, about Mitch. His mouth and brain aren't exactly connected." Katniss nods, and smoothes out the pale blue dress she's wearing. I blink. I've never seen Katniss in a dress. Well, not since she was five or six and she traded in floral prints for sensible trousers.

"It's alright." She smiles.

"You look nice tonight." I offer. She looks up at me, her grey eyes framed by unbelievably long lashes, and bites her lip.

"Thank you," She whispers. "It's my mothers dress."

"It suits you." I reply. We fall into silence. "Where did you get that pin?" I ask.

"This one?" Katniss asks, touching the golden circle. I nod. "Madge gave it to me."

"Huh?" Madge asks, looking up at the mention of her name.

"I was just telling Peeta about the pin you gave me." Katniss murmurs.

"It looks very rare," I say. "It must be worth a lot."

"I'm not selling it." Katniss says, her eyes narrowed.

"No! No, no," I say, shaking my head. "I'm not asking to buy it, or anything. I'm just saying how well made it is… and…" I trail off.

I'm making a real pigs ear of this.

"Oh." Katniss says, looking down at the tablecloth.

The evening continues like this. I try my best to get Katniss to talk to me, respond to my attempts at conversation.

Mitch comes to my rescue after twenty minutes of awkward silence.

"Would you girls like something to drink?" Mitch asks, looking at Madge. I look at Katniss.

"Yes please, from both of us." Madge says. I stand and follow Mitch towards a table carrying a large bowl of punch.

"Cripes, Peet," Mitch says, glancing back at our table and then back to me. "Is she ill-mannered or what?" I frown.

"No, she isn't ill-mannered."

"Then why aren't you too talking?"

"Your comment about being able to feel the tension didn't help," I hiss. Mitch laughs. "I'm trying to talk to her, honest. She doesn't seem to like me."

"Everdeen doesn't like townies."

"She likes Undersee." Mitch points out, filling up plastic cups with the red drink.

"What should I do?" I ask. "I can't just sit there in silence."

"Well, you're doing a pretty good job of it at the moment so-"

"You're no help." I roll my eyes. Mitch claps me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry," He says with an evil glint in his eye. "I'll get the conversation rolling."

My eyes widen and a fill two more cups with punch before following Mitch back to our table. I hand Katniss her drink and she takes it from me. Our fingers only touch for a second, but I feel like I've been shocked, my skin tingling.

"Sorry," Katniss says softly, noticing my pulling my hand back. "My hands are cold." She twists her fingers together.

"It's alright," I say. I look up at Mitch who tilts his head to one side and raises his eyebrows at me. "You hunt, don't you?" I ask.

"Umm, yeah," Katniss says, frowning at me. "How did you know?"

"I eat your squirrels," I explain. "And it isn't exactly the best kept secret in District 12." Katniss glances to the left.

"I guess carrying dead animals around town doesn't keep it secret." Katniss says. I laugh and she smiles.

"How do you shoot the squirrels through the eye every time?"

"Years and years of practice," Katniss says, seeming to feel more at ease. "You have to be silent, and know when to shoot, which angle… It takes a lot of practice to get it right."

"Wow…" I breathe. "What's the biggest thing you've ever caught?"

"I shot down a stag once, and Gale had to finish it off with his knife." Katniss murmurs.

"And the smallest?"

"A mouse." Katniss says, smiling at the memory.

"I'd never be able to go hunting." I comment.

"Why?" Katniss asks, giving me the once over.

"Yeah, I might be fairly strong, but I'm like a bull in a china store." Katniss smirks. "I'd scare everything away."

"Wearing those big clunky boots sure don't help." Katniss says. I look down at my boots.

"You wear boots though, don't you?" I ask.

"Uh-huh," Katniss nods. "But mine have been used for so long that they've kinda moulded into my feet. When I wear them it's almost like walking barefoot."

"What's your favourite season?" I ask. Katniss' brow furrows as she thinks.

"I think I like spring the best, because the forest is coming alive again after winter." She smiles to herself. "What about you?"

"I like winter." I say.

"Why?" Katniss asks. "Winter is when the snow comes. It's cold and all the animals go into hibernation."

"But it's always beautiful in the winter," I say. "The snow falling, the icy ground, icicles, Christmas."

"I guess it is…" Katniss trails off.

When the food arrives, Katniss' eyes look like their going to pop out of their head, they open so wide.

"Prim would've loved all this." She whispers to herself, looking worriedly at the food sat in front of her.

"You should try this." I say, pushing a mug towards her. She looks warily at it and picks it up, wrapping her fingers around the warm china.

"What is it?" She asks.

"Hot chocolate," I explain. "It's good." Katniss timidly raises the mug to her lips and takes a sip.

"This is good!" She exclaims, taking the cup and gulping it down, licking her lips in approval afterwards.

"Katniss," Madge says from across the table. "Eat this."

"What is-"

"Just try it." Madge answers. Katniss takes the small pot from her friend's hand and dips part of a bread roll into the orange sauce.

"Peeta, what is this?" She asks.

"I don't know." I confess. Katniss looks at Mitch, who shrugs.

"It's a sauce from the Capitol." Madge says with a grin.

"Try it." Katniss says, placing the bowl on the table. Mitch and I eat a little. Flavours burst over my tongue and I grin.

"It's good with chicken." Madge pipes up suddenly.

By the time we're finished, we've eaten the finest food we've ever seen, let alone heard of.

Mitch asks Madge if she'd like to dance, and they wander off onto the dance floor, Madge's cheeks pink, Mitch giving me a thumbs up and a wink. I look back at Katniss, who is slipping something into the pocket of her jacket.

"What are you doing?" I ask her, causing her to jump.

"Oh!" She exclaims, pulling her hands from her pockets and wrinkling her nose. "Nothing, nothing… I was just…"

"Were you putting food in your jacket pocket?" I ask.

"No, I wasn't doing that." Katniss mumbles.

"If you're gonna take something, at least wrap it in paper." I say with a grin. Katniss' mouth drops open.

"But it's…" She trails off.

"I don't blame you," I say, wrapping some chicken up and handing it to her. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you." Katniss smiles.

After a short pause, I pluck up the courage to speak again.

"There's only an hour left." I state.

"Yes."

"Would you like to… err… dance?" I ask. Katniss blinks. I swallow.

"I'd love to." She smiles.

"Really?" I do a double take. Katniss nods, slips her jacket from her shoulders, and puts it over the back of her chair.

I follow her onto the main dancing space of the hall. A jolly song is being played, and my fellow classmates are spinning each other around, hand in hand, with smiles on their faces.

"Can you dance?" Katniss asks me.

"I guess I can…" I say, trailing off.

"Don't worry," Katniss grins, taking my hand. "I'll teach you." She steps forward and turns around, tilting her head to one side. "Take my hands." She says. I do as she asks, and she grips them tight.

"What do I do?" I ask.

"You step to the left, then the right, and then you move in close to me before spinning me out again. But you can alternate between steps." She grins at my bewildered expression. "You'll get the hang of it." She promises.

Katniss steps to her left, and then to her right, before moving in close to me, her chest nearly touching mine. I laugh and she moves back out again as I spin her around. She twirls on one foot, her skirt billowing out.

She's a natural.

Her face lights up as she dances with me. My heart swells when I realise that I haven't seen her this happy for a long time. She does smile, but it never seems to reach her eyes.

However, tonight her eyes are shining. She _giggles _as we dance.

And then, at the end of the night, she walks away with a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Peeta. I had fun." She says.

I stand at the doorway with Mitch as she walks away Gale Hawthorne beside her.

"So, it went well, did it?" Mitch asks.

"I think so." I mumble.

"You're gonna try and hook up with her, aren't you?" I stare at my friend.

"No. I'm not." I say.

"Really Peet?" Mitch shakes his head. "You've been in love with her for years, and you're telling me you aren't going to do anything about it?"

"I'm trying to convince myself too, Mitch," I sigh. "I really am."


	3. Chapter 3: The Preparation Chamber

**OMG thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and/or followed my story! This is great! :D … I hope my explanation was understandable!**

**I struggled with chapter actually, despite having a plan. I wasn't sure how I could bulk it out :/ Ah well, I've finished it now! I'd like to apologise in advance for possible future chapters being late (though I write more everyday so hopefully it won't happen) but I've got GCSE's going on at the moment and even though it's the holidays, I have loads of revising to do :( **

**Thanks for understanding!**

* * *

-Katniss-

**I feel like a complete moron.**

I'm running to school, my braid thumping against my back, and the only thing I can think about is how I acted last night at the dinner.

I acted like a complete _girl_- laughing and dancing with Peeta. I barely know him, and just because I'm his partner, it doesn't give me the right to haul him up from his seat and practically force him to dance with me.

He looked completely bewildered.

Once I'm through the school gates, I duck down and sneak past the patrolling hall monitor and into the empty school corridors.

But, as I hastily pull my schoolbooks from my locker and slam it shut, I feel a smile on my lips.

I have to admit.

I had fun last night with Peeta.

"Miss Everdeen, why are you late?" Effie Trinket asks as I attempt to open the door as quietly as I can and sneak to my desk.

"I… overslept." I say softly.

"Get an alarm clock," Effie frowns. "Sit down." I roll my eyes and sit at my desk at the back of the room. Madge shoots me a small smile.

_As if I can afford an alarm clock._

"Now, then, students," Effie says, turning around and writing on the board with big loopy writing. "Now that you're all here, I would like to formally introduce you to Haymitch Abernathy." She smiles and looks to her left, where a grumpy-looking man sits in the corner of the room, his feet propped up on a pile of books.

"'Mornin'" Haymitch grunts, scanning the class with narrowed eyes. I shift in my seat.

"He looks happy to be here." Madge whispers.

"He looks like he's drunk."

"He probably is." Madge grins. I shake my head and lean back in my seat.

"Today is the first day of your time in the Training Centre," Effie continues. "Mr Abernathy will be taking the boys, and girlies, you'll be with me!"

Effie claps her hands together, seemingly unaware of the looks of annoyance on the faces of her students.

Madge and I wait until Peeta and Mitch are gone with the rest of the guys before beginning to talk while Effie sets up at her desk.

"Do you like Peeta?" Madge asks me, tucking a strand of curled blonde hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, I think I do," I say with a small smile. "But I'm not sure if he likes me."

"Why'd you think that?" Madge frowns.

"Last night I acted really… un-me. He looked bewildered, probably thinks I'm crazy or desperate…" I sigh and cover my face with my hands.

"Did you see his face last night?" Madge exclaims. "Yeah, he looked surprised when you actually agreed to dance with him, but I saw the massive grin on his face," Madge pats my arm. "He likes you Katniss."

"Whatever," I mumble. Madge shakes her head. "You and Mitch were getting on well."

"Yeah…"

"You didn't have any awkward silences."

"I know…"

"Or comments about sexual tension," At this and my disgruntled face, Madge bursts out laughing. "What are you laughing about?" I exclaim.

"Oh, come on Katniss! It was hilarious!" Madge giggles, her cheeks pink.

"It wasn't," I say. "It was humiliating."

"Jeez, calm down," Madge says. "It's not like there's any tension between you two… especially sexual," She gives me an odd look. "Or is there?" She says suspiciously.

"Madge. There isn't any sexual tension of any kind between Peeta and I."

"Sure, sure." Madge says, waving her hand in my face dismissively. I bat it away as Effie begins talking.

"Ahh, now that all the boys are gone, we can begin!" Effie laughs at something and claps her hands together again. "For the next few days, you'll be told about the Baby Games and what they entail. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me or Haymitch!"

The lesson drags on, filled with Effie's incessant giggling, endless questions from Marlene about silly things. When the school bell rings and we're sent to break, I'm nearly pulling my hair out in frustration.

"Well, we've only got one more lesson for the games for today," Madge shrugs. "Double maths will be… a break from all this."

"Ugh. I can't handle a double lesson of Effie, then a double of maths, and then back to Effie again." I say, resting my chin in my hand.

"Well, you better get used to it, we've got a whole nine months ahead."

"That doesn't make it any better." I mutter. Madge laughs.

I can't understand why we have to do this. Nine months of _Effie Trinket_ and _Haymitch Abernathy_ and _pretend babies_ and _people in general. _

How am I going to survive this?

Peeta springs to mind when Madge heads to Higher Maths and I continue down the corridor to Basic Maths.

Once seated at my desk, I think about what Madge said. I can't imagine Peeta liking me. He's a blonde townie with tonnes of friends and a great personality, and I'm a scrawny Seam brat who always sees the bad side of everything.

Peeta Mellark and I, we're like chalk and cheese.

"I didn't know you were in Basic Maths!" I look up and see Peeta standing beside my desk, his blue eyes wide.

"Yeah, I'm stupider than they first thought." I mutter.

"You're not stupid," Peeta says, sitting beside me. "Well, I don't think you are." He offers me a small smile and I press my lips together.

"The teachers put me in Higher first, but when it came apparent that Maths wasn't my strong point, they dumped me here with these losers." Peeta raises an eyebrow.

"Losers?" He repeats.

"No!" I exclaim, shaking my head. "I mean that some of the other kids in here are losers and not that you are a loser…" I trail off.

"Don't worry, I was kidding." Peeta grins.

"Oh," I say, my cheeks reddening. "So, why are you here?"

"Because I'm the worst at Maths." Peeta confesses.

"But you work at a bakery," I say. "Shouldn't you be a great mathematician?"

"I should, really, but that's why there are calculators." Peeta grins. I roll my eyes.

"Smart idea." I say. Peeta nods and pulls his workbook from the bag he's dumped beside him.

"So, if Maths isn't your strong point, what is?" Peeta queries, tapping his pencil on the desk.

"I don't really have a strong point at school. I suppose Gym, but I'm pretty useless otherwise."

"Gym?" Peeta asks. I nod. "Oh, I'm not surprised you said that actually. You know, with you hunting and all."

"It gives me a chance to exercise," I smile. "What about your strong point? Working at the bakery must be strenuous."

"Gym isn't my first strong point." Peeta says softly.

"What's your first then?"

"Nothing, it's silly." Peeta mumbles, sitting back in his chair. I frown, feeling the mood change.

"Tell me, Peeta. I won't laugh unless it's ballet or playing the harp," Peeta stays silent. I clap a hand over my mouth. "You play the harp?"

"No, I-"

"You play the _harp_?" I ask, disbelieving, trying to imagine Peeta doing either of these things.

"No!" Peeta laughs. "I like to draw and paint."

"Are you any good?" I ask.

"No, I wouldn't say so." Peeta shrugs.

"Draw something," I suggest. "And I'll be the judge."

"Draw what?" Peeta asks.

"Draw a… dandelion." I realise what I've said and look down at the desk. I can feel Peeta's eyes on me. I catapulted back in time five years.

-Flashback-'Cold… Hunger… Prim.' These three words spin around in my head; round and round like a rhyme, continuously reminding me of how I'm letting my family down.

_No. I'm not the one letting her family down. My mother is. _

_I know that she deserves to be sad after Dad's death, but now she's completely abandoned her two young daughters. She doesn't do anything anymore. She just lies there, staring at things we can't see._

_I wish my Mom would come back._

_I'm brought to my senses when my boot plunges into a deep puddle, soaking my foot. I plod on, squelching through the mud and rain, Prim's old baby clothes clutched in my hand._

_I'm desperate now; I think I'll do anything to get even a bit of food back home. Prim's gaunt body appears in my mind. I won't be able to handle coming home with nothing to line our stomachs with. She'll try her hardest to hide her gut-wrenching disappointment, but I'll be able to see it in her eyes. _

_I give up on attempting to sell Prim's old clothes, and when my frozen fingers can no longer grip the tattered fabric, I watch the clothes fall into the mud. _

_Stumbling through the town, the rain bouncing off the completely empty cobbled streets, I take to rummaging through the bins like an animal. I'm shivering as I reach the bakery, praying that this bin will have some burnt bread at the bottom. _

_Something._

_Anything. _

_A thin cry escapes my lips when I pull the metal lid off and find it empty, the shiny silver tin mocking me. The metal clanks noisily, and the chain attaching the bin to the house wall clatters. _

_I crawl to the apple tree outside the Mellark bakery, curling up against the rough bark, drenched to the bone. As the icy rain comes down in sheets, I wrap my arms around my skeletal knees and wait for death to take me under._

_And then I hear shouting and look up. It's the baker's wife. The District Witch. She's shouting at me to 'clear off you disgusting Seam brat!' and I make no effort to move. She storms back inside and I hear a loud bang, just before the door slams shut. _

_More shouting, but this time I'm not the one being shouted out. Peeta Mellark stumbles out onto the decking. I flinch when his mother's hand connects with his cheek. She screams at him some more and he simply hangs his head in silence. _

_When he sees me however, he falters and stares for a second. I can only imagine what he's thinking. _

_And then to my utter surprise he rips the burnt pieces of the loaves off and throws them to the pigs before checking behind him one last time and throwing me the bread. He disappears into the house without another glance back at me. _

_I sit there, dumbfounded, before scrambling up from the mud and shoving the loaves up my shirt._

_I run home, the bread burning my stomach, and for the first time in a week, I eat something other than boiled mint leaves. I even convince Mom to eat a slice._

_The next day when I was at school, I saw the golden-haired boy from across the yard. The boy that gave me hope. He turned and catches me staring for a second before looking away. But I still see it. The red welt on his cheek and his black eye explain it all._

_And then I see it. The first dandelion of the spring. _

_I knew how I was going to survive._

The teacher calling my name brings me out of my thoughts.

"The answer please, Miss Everdeen." I blink and look at the board. The long equation stares back at me.

"I'm sorry, I don't know." I mumble. The teacher frowns but moves on.

"I'm finished." Peeta whispers from beside me. I look down at his workbook and my jaw falls slack.

"Wow! Peeta… this is amazing!" I say, puling the book closer and staring at the sketch.

"It really isn't." Peeta grimaces.

"I feel like I could pick it up! It looks so real." I whisper.

"Thanks, I think." Peeta murmurs.

"It's a compliment, definitely," I say. Peeta rips the page from his book. "What are you doing?" I exclaim.

"Have it," Peeta says, pushing the page towards me. "Think of it as a gift."

"I can't-"

"Yeah you can."

"Thank you." I grin, sliding the page inbetween the leaves of my own book.

**-Peeta-**

As the teacher sets us twenty algebra questions to answer, I lean back in my chair and smile.

Beside me, Katniss leans over her workbook, tongue stuck out with concentration as she attempts to draw a straight line freehand.

After her sixth try, she cries out in anguish and rips the page out, squishing it into a ball and shoving it into her pocket.

"Do you want me to do it for you?" I ask her.

"Huh?"

"You're gonna rip out all the pages if you keep on like this." I grin, taking her book and drawing a straight line.

"You're an artist. It's easy for you." Katniss grumbles. I laugh.

"I've got a steady hand," I shrug. "Icing cakes for nearly ten years requires a lot of concentration."

"Show off."

This causes me to laugh again and Katniss narrows her eyes before returning to her work.

She spends the rest of the lesson trying to draw a straight line like mine.

At lunch, Katniss and I sit at our respective tables. I can see her talking quietly with Madge Undersee, twirling the end of her braid with her fingers.

"Dude, are you _drooling_?" Mitch asks me, bumping me on the shoulder with his fist.

"Huh? What, no!" I reply, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and looking at my friend.

"I was kidding, you weren't drooling…" Mitch grins. "But if you keep staring at her like that, she'll get a restraining order."

"Like you haven't been fawning over Valerie for the past two months." I say.

"I have not." Mitch says indignantly.

"Yeah you have!" I say. "And now you've suddenly started flirting with Madge."

"Is it obvious?" Mitch asks sarcastically.

"What are you two talking about?" Delly asks, leaning on my shoulder and smiling wide.

"The games." Mitch says quickly, which isn't a complete lie.

"Oh, how do you like your partners? Bron seems okay." Delly says, brushing a lock of blonde hair from her face.

"Madge's cool." Mitch shrugs- the complete opposite of what he was says half a minute ago. I give him a knowing look and he gives me the finger.

"Peeta?" Delly asks me.

"Katniss is nice, we seem to be getting on okay." I say.

For the next twenty minutes, Mitch and I are stuck listening to Delly, Marlene and the rest of the 'popular' girls prattle on about how unfair the Reaping system is.

"I don't think it's very fair!" Katy cries, her eyes wide. "Poor Marlene, I can't even begin to imagine how upset you must be!" Marlene applies another layer of lipstick before replying.

"To be honest, I don't know how I'm going to survive the Games! This is the most important project of my life, and I've been paired with a Seam brat!" Marlene wipes away and invisible tear. Mitch pretends to shoot himself.

"Coal seems to be alright with his partner." Mitch pipes up. The entire table laughs, and I glance at the two people at the end of the table. "Oi! Lovebirds!" Mitch shouts.

At the end of the table, Coal- the son of the District Mine Coordinator- pulls his lips away from Scarlet, the grocer's eldest daughter.

"What are you trying to do? Swallow each other?" Kaytee cackles.

"Fuck all of you." Coal says, his eyes bright.

"You're jealous." Scarlet blushes, applying even more lip-gloss.

The entire table groans and turns away when they continue frantically kissing.

"I thought that would never end!" Mitch exclaims as we escape the wrath of the girls.

"I can still hear Kaytee cackling." I grimace.

"Ugh…" Mitch shudders. "You looking forward to canoodling with Katniss again?"

"Shut up, you know that isn't how she feels."

"Oh, I wouldn't be sure if I were you," Mitch grins manically. "She couldn't keep her hands off you at the dinner!"

I fall into silence.

"And now you're thinking about it, aren't you?" Mitch asks.

"'Course not." I mutter, shoving him to the side as we enter the school hall.

"Line up! Line up!" Effie squawks from the stage, her hair- that must be a wig- falling to one side. "We need to be on schedule!"

"Oh, keep your hair on Trinket!" Haymitch Abernathy grunts from the doorway. I watch as he looks around, digs a small silver hipflask from his pocket and takes a swig. I blink and his head snaps up, his eyes meeting mine. He laughs and shakes his head. I look away.

"Manners!" Effie screeches in the microphone.

I spot Katniss and Madge sitting at the back of the hall, leaning up against the concrete wall, their feet propped up on chairs.

"Mind if we join you?" Mitch asks. Madge laughs and we sit down. I see Katniss nudging her friend in the ribs and Madge pulling a face.

"I think Mitch and Madge are gonna be more than Games partners." I whisper to Katniss.

"Mitch likes her?" Katniss exclaims softly.

"Uh-huh," I nod. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"And you didn't hear from me that Madge likes Mitch." Katniss says, holding he hand out for me to shake.

"Deal." I grin.

"Hello again, students, to the Preparation Chamber!" Effie says enthusiastically.

"This is the school hall, not the 'Preparation Chamber'." Katniss scowls from beside me.

"I don't think Effie is completely sane." I reply.

"It must be all the product she uses," Katniss says, tilting her head to look at the Capitol woman standing in front of her. "That hair is defying gravity."

"Well put, Everdeen. Well put." I say. Katniss grins.

"Now, I'm sure you're all dying to know what the Preparation Chamber is!" Effie says. The hall stays deathly silent. Effie's smile doesn't falter though.

"Well, this part of the Games is all about getting to know your partner. Over the next hour and a half, you'll be asked questions about your partner. At the end of the Games, you'll be asked again to see how much you've learnt!"

"Thank you, Trinket," Haymitch says gruffly, pushing the prissy woman aside. Katniss snorts at Effie's surprised face. "Get into your pairs and line up by the wall. We'll sort you out from there."

The hundred or so students sitting in the hall stand and begin finding their partners.

"Lets stay put." Katniss decides.

The next hour is spent listening to our fellow classmates 'umming' and 'ahhing' about their partners.

Coal and Scarlet, however, come out on top.

"You two sure know a lot about each other," Haymitch says suspiciously. "Are you sure you aren't brother and sister or something?"

"Would a brother do this to his sister?" Coal says slyly, grabbing Scarlet and kissing her. Bron wolf whistles from across the room.

"Okay, okay. Keep it decent!" Haymitch shouts.

"Oh, how positively romantic!" Effie giggles.

Mitch answers a decent amount of questions about Madge, and vice versa.

Katniss and I are called up onto the stage, and as I sit on the wonky stool beside her, I feel my palms growing sweaty.

I glance at Mitch, who is staring up at me with a grin on his lips. I don't know what I'm going to do.

I know so much about Katniss- being in love with her for most of my life has allowed me to get to know a fair amount about her.

"Okay then, lets gets started!" Effie smiles. Haymitch takes the mic - much to everyone's relief- and begins firing questions at me.

"Name?" He says, looking up from a clipboard.

"Peeta Mellark." Haymitch lets out a loud laugh, clutching at his stomach.

"Her name, not yours!" He says, pointing a gnarled finger at Katniss. "Jeez! You're doing well so far!"

"Leave the boy alone, Haymitch!" Effie hisses.

"Katniss Everdeen." I say, looking over at my partner. Katniss covers her mouth with her hand and laughs.

"Age?"

"Sixteen."

"Date of birth?"

"May?" I pretend to guess. I know its May eighth, I remember her father carrying her home on his shoulders on her sixth birthday, a small crown of woven flowers upon her head. They would visit the bakery and buy a cookie. I would always make sure she would get the biggest and most beautifully decorated one.

"Correct." I can feel Katniss' eyes burning into me.

"Family?"

"Mother and Sister." I say, nodding my head.

"Father?"

"Deceased." I say quietly.

"Also correct." Haymitch says.

Five minutes pass and I pretend to not know the answers to most of the questions. They're silly questions, anyway, like their favourite colour, hobbies and school grades. I wonder how the school knows all this. The favourite colours of their students aren't normally shared between teachers and pupils.

"Now then, Miss Everdeen. It's your turn." Haymitch finally says. I breathe a sigh of relief and look at Katniss.

"Name?"

"Peeta Mellark?"

"Age?"

"Sixteen."

"Date of birth?"

"December twelfth." Katniss says, looking down at her knees.

"Correct."

"Mother, Father and two brothers."

"Hobbies?"

"Wrestling?" She suggests. I smile to myself.

"Correct." Haymitch nods.

"I nearly said painting, you know," Katniss says. I frown. "Instead of wrestling."

"Thank you for not saying it." I grimace. The sides of Katniss' lips turn upwards.

"How did you know that my birthday is in May?" Katniss asks me as we're pushed out of the school doors by a wave of students.

"I can remember you coming into the bakery each year with your father to buy a cookie." I say. Katniss nods.

"And you'd always give me the nicest one." Katniss laughs.

"How did you know?" I ask.

"I could see you pushing the best cookie into your father's hand every time we went," Katniss grinned. I look away, embarrassed. "But you needn't worry. I always traded you with the best squirrels." My mouth drops open.

"You shouldn't have." I mumble.

"And neither did you. I'll see you tomorrow." Katniss says, walking towards her little sister waiting under a tree.

"You played it well, my friend," Mitch slaps me on the shoulder as he catches up to me. "I don't think she suspected nothing."

"Good." I say.

"But she knew a fair amount about you."

"We've traded for years. I'm wearing my Mellark wrestling hoodie. I'm like an open book." I shrug it off.

"Sure, sure." Mitch grins, before walking away from me, his hands in his pockets.


	4. Chapter 4: It's a date

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* * *

**-Katniss-**

It's Friday. The Baby Games has been on the go for just over a week. The warmth that summer had provided has melted into the cool weather September brings, and the leaves on the trees are beginning to change.

"Today we're gonna get the sacks of flour." I say to Prim as we walk to school.

"Why haven't they given them to you yet?" Prim asks, her eyebrows knitted together as she looks up at me. "It's been ages!"

"I'm not sure. Apparently there was a lot of rain in District

"Excited?"

"Not really." I shrug.

"I bet they get the flour sacks from the bakery," Prim says. "That means you have a bit of an advantage."

I pause, looking down at my sister with my eyes narrowed.

"How do I have an advantage?" I ask.

"If you end up destroying the bag, you can always replace it with another one and Miss Trinket and Mr Abernathy will never know." Prim says, grinning up at me.

"You think I'm gonna destroy the flour bag?" I ask her.

"I don't know, maybe…" Prim giggles. I tug the end of her braid.

"Don't underestimate me." I grin. "I've taken good care of you, haven't I? How different can you be to a bag of flour?" At this, Prim punches me on the arm. I go to chase after her and she runs away, kicking up the dusty ground.

"Are we going to the bakery after school?" Prim asks me, slightly breathless from her sudden burst of energy.

"Would you like to?" I ask her.

"Have we got enough money?" She asks.

"I traded with Sae this morning. We'll buy a loaf and you can choose a cookie." I say.

"I'll meet you by the tree." Prim promises, giving me a quick hug before running off to her usual group of friends.

"Heads up, Everdeen!" A voice shouts and I look around, just in time to catch the worn leather football that's flying through the air.

"Good catch." A familiar voice laughs, and I turn to find Gale –of all people- standing behind me.

"Gale! What are you doing here?" I ask. Throwing the ball back in the direction it came from. Since Gale's turned eighteen and begun working at the mines, he hasn't been attending school very often, if at all.

"We weren't needed for this shift, they're making sure the new chamber is stable. They've just blasted it," Gale shrugs. "I thought I should come into school for a lesson or two."

"Are you sure?" I ask, walking into the school. "You aren't exactly the schooling type." Gale grins and the school bell rings.

"It's too late now, I guess. The bell's gone." He says.

"Well, I've got to go to class, so I'll see you later."

"At first break. I'll be gone after lunch."

I watch my friend walk down the corridor; his shoulders hunched over, and feel a frown appear on my lips. The summer was hard on both Gale and I, the stifling heat killing off so many of the animals we usually caught and traded.

I could only imagine what it was like trapped hundreds of feet underground in a dark chamber, in the place where our fathers had been killed not five years ago.

"You alright, Katniss?" Madge's question causes me to jump. "You look upset."

"It's nothing," I shrug. "Its just Gale."

"What?" Madge exclaims, her eyes widening. She knows about Gale working at the mines. "Has something happened?"

"No, Gale is alright. But he's here."

"Here?"

"At school, but only for a while." I explain.

"Then why do you look so upset? Surely you should be happy that he's on the surface. Even if it's only for a little time." I grimace. Madge smiles ruefully at me and squeezes my arm.

"Students, students, settle down please!" Effie claps her hands together and continues to do so until we fall silent. "As many of you know, today you are going to be receiving your 'babies'!"

"Line up with your partner, and you'll receive them." Haymitch snaps.

"Manners!" Effie screeches. "Haymitch, I hadn't finished talking."

"I know." Haymitch says. Effie purses her lips and glares at the older man. The class shuffles into a wonky line, and I stand beside Peeta.

"I don't understand why them two have to work with each other," Peeta comments, gesturing to Effie and Haymitch who are arguing at the front of the classroom. "They don't get along at all!"

"Maybe that's how they work best." I suggest. Peeta grins, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the classroom wall.

We stand in a comfortable silence, Peeta laughing with Mitch and Madge while I watch pairs of students receive the bags of flour that are representing our children.

"Are they from your bakery?" I ask Peeta suddenly.

"Are what from the bakery?" Peeta asks, his brow furrowed.

"The bags of flour."

"Oh!" Peeta nods. "Yeah, they are," He smiles softly and brushes a lock of hair from his eyes. "But we had a late shipment from 11- that's why we are being given them today and not at the Reaping."

"Cool." I nod. Peeta returns to talking to Mitch, and Madge prods me in the ribs with her finger.

"You alright?" She asks me. I nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I hope the bags of flour aren't too heavy. I don't want to be lugging it around in my bag for nine months, it'll be nightmare."

"They aren't that bad." Peeta interjects.

"Coming from you!" Mitch scoffs. "You've spent your entire life carrying sacks of flour like they weigh nothing."

"Not all of us are used to carrying heavy stuff." Madge says, raising her eyebrows.

"I've seen you carrying deer, and wild dog before." Peeta addresses me.

"Yeah, but Gale normally holds the heavier end." I shrug.

"See, both of you has an advantage!" Mitch narrows his eyes.

"Jealous?" Peeta chuckles. Mitch kicks his friend in the ankle.

I take a moment to discreetly glance at Peeta. Mitch's comment has caught my attention, and I find myself staring at my partner's body. The blue shirt Peeta is wearing looks worn, but loved, and is tight enough to show off the muscles in his arms, and the ridges on his torso.

I look away, my cheeks burning. I look down at my skinny frame.

Sure, I may be able to carry large animals, but my strength hasn't just come from years of exercise in the woods. It's also the thought of Prim- or my mother- dieing if I don't bring in food. The image of Prim's skeletal frame huddled by the fire after Dad died is burned into my mind. That's what motivates me.

"Smile, sweetheart." Someone tells me. I look up and see Haymitch smirking at me.

"Here's your baby!" Effie trills, handing me a bag of flour. "Look after it well, and make sure you share chores equally!"

"Next!" Haymitch shouts. Madge and Mitch step forward and Peeta and I lead Peeta to the back of the classroom. I dump the flour bag on the table, pull out a chair, and sit down.

"That's no way to treat a baby," Peeta grins, sitting beside me. "Dumping it on the table." I raise and eyebrow, pick the offending bag up and cradle it in my arms as if it were an actual child.

"Is that better?" I ask Peeta. He grins and shakes his head. I put the bag gently back down on the desk.

"I guess we need to sort out who's looking after it." Peeta says, glancing at me.

"I'll go first, if you want." I offer.

"And when shall I take it?"

"Next Friday?" I suggest. "We can alternate between weeks."

"Yeah, okay," Peeta grins. He leans back onto the two back legs of the chair. "You going to the party?"

"What party?" I frown.

"The one after school, celebrating 'surviving the first week of the games'." Peeta grins. I raise an eyebrow.

"That isn't much of a reason." I say. Peeta shrugs, his shirt straining. I look at the worn wooden desk in front of me, drumming my fingers impatiently.

"You don't need a reason to have a party," Peeta smiles. "Will you at least consider coming?"

"I don't know…" I say softly. "I don't like leaving Prim home alone, and Mom isn't exactly-"

I pause. Peeta doesn't need to know about my mother's… condition.

"I know your mother is depressed, Katniss." Peeta admits, his expression careful as he looks at me.

"Then you should understand why I couldn't leave Prim alone." I reply. Peeta stay silent. I wonder if I've ruined the conversation.

"If you do decide to come, meet me outside the bakery at seven." Peeta breaks the silence.

"Where is this party?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta smiling.

"At Bron's house."

"What about his parents and siblings?"

"They've gone to visit my great-aunt with my family. They won't be back until tomorrow evening," Peeta says. I blink. "At least consider it." Peeta urges. I bite my lip.

"Don't get your hopes up." I conclude as the bell rings.

School finishes for my year after two lessons. I'm glad, for two reasons. Firstly, it allows me to dump the bag of flour at home.

The house is silent. Prim's at school. I walk through our small house, checking all the beds.

"Mom?" I call. No answer. She must be working. I feel my eyebrows rise up my forehead. Mom hasn't worked for a long time. At least a month.

People would come knocking at our door, but I would have to send them away. Prim would help them as much as she could, but when it came to serious illnesses, we couldn't help.

I grab my father's hunting jacket from the hook by the door and step outside, glancing down the dirt track before heading towards the fence. I don't even realise that I'm running until I reach the hollow tree containing my bow and arrows, and I find that I'm out of breath.

"You made it!" Gale grins as I shoot an arrow at him.

"Of course." I laugh.

We spend the next few hours trawling the forest, stocking up on animals that we can trade or eat ourselves.

The summer was harsh. The winter will not be forgiving.

We slip through the gap in the fence and cross the meadow and are walking to the Hob when Gale stops and hands me his game bag.

"I've got to go back," Gale tells me. "My shift starts at two."

"What am I going to do with this?" I ask, holding up my friend's game bag.

"Trade it." Gale says.

"I'll give your share to Hazelle." I promise.

"See you later." Gale smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes as he tugs fondly on my braid.

"Be safe." I whisper. He nods and turns away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he walks away, his head down.

"You have a gift, my dear." Sae says with a smile, looking down at the rabbits I've laid out in front of her.

"Gale helped." I say modestly.

"I'll give you twenty coins." Sae says. "And free soup."

"Deal." I grin, shaking her wrinkled hand.

"Heard that there's a party going on, at Mr Whester's house," Sae says, ladling soup into a chipped bowl and handing it to me. I tuck in immediately. "You goin'?"

"Probably not," I say, tilting my head back as I talk to stop the soup from dribbling down my chin. "Prim'll be all alone."

"Your mother is able to care for Primrose." Sae says, her eyes kind, creasing at the corners.

"She isn't."

"She is depressed, not incapable," Sae says. I shoot her a look. "Give her a chance, dear."

"No." I snap stubbornly, spooning more soup into my mouth.

"Yes."

"Why are you standing up for her?" I ask crossly.

"Your mother came into the Hob not three hours ago and traded a year of health care for a supply of medicines." Sae says.

"She doesn't even know about this place." I mumble.

"Damn well she does!" Sae says, exchanging soup for coins with another customer as she talks. "Your mother came here all the time when she first met your father." I look up.

"Really?"

"All the time," Sae smiles and stares off behind me, as remembering a happy memory. "When her parents disowned her, she came here because she knew that your father would be sitting here, or trading with someone else."

"He sat here?" I ask, looking down at the rickety, three-legged stool I'm currently perched on.

"Yep, bought soup from here every Sunday. Boy, was he a good talker," Sae notices my ashen expression and returns to talking about my mother. "When she found out she was pregnant with you, she ran from the Merchant apothecary across town and into this very building."

"But that's nearly two miles."

"I know. But that didn't stop her. She ran, ripping her dress and covering her boots in mud, and knocked Ripper over as she ran past me," Sae looks down and grins and me. "I swear, I've never seen a Merchant woman looking as happy as she did. Threw herself straight into Donnell's arms and kissed him for about half an hour, despite the fact that he was covered in coal dust and blood from hunting."

"Oh." I whisper, not knowing what I should say.

"Let her look after Primrose," Sae says. "And you go to that party and act like any other normal sixteen year old girl."

"I'm not normal." I state, wiping up the last of the soup with my finger, narrowly missing Sae's swatting hand.

"Not in the least." Sae laughs.

"I'll see you later." I nod, slinging the two game bags over my shoulder and heading deeper into the Hob to trade.

I have a heavy bag of coins on my hip, and four squirrels to trade. I head to the bakery, knowing that Mr Mellark is always willing to buy my squirrels. I don't think that they really need my game, but Peeta's father is too kind-hearted to turn me away.

Mrs Mellark, however is the complete opposite. The evil witch despises me, and now that I've been reaped with her son, she probably hates me even more.

'If that were possible.' I scoff, a smirk on my lips.

I'm on tenterhooks as I wait on the doorstep at the back of the bakery. I peer through the window and see Farrell- Peeta's father- heading towards the back door.

"Is she there?" I ask quietly when he opens the door.

"Workin' the till." The baker says softly, his blue eyes mirroring Peeta's.

"I've got four skinned squirrels." I whisper.

"Thirty coins." Mr Mellark says, pulling a small bag of coins from his apron pocket.

"Twenty and a loaf of bread." I say.

"Fine."

I watch, listening out for Mrs Mellark's footsteps, as the man disappears into the bakery kitchen. I hear rustling as he puts my loaf in the bag.

"Thank you." I smile.

"No, thank _you_!" Mr Mellark says, squeezing my shoulder.

"Farrell? Who are you talking to?" A shrill voice calls.

"No-one, dear."

"Where's Peeta?"

"He's delivering to the Cricks!" Mr Mellark smiles at me. "Go!" He hisses, his eyes sparkling.

I turn and walk swiftly away, the paper bag containing coins and a loaf of bread clutched close to my chest. I keep my head down until I'm at the end of the road, and don't see the broad-shouldered person I collide with.

"Oh, sorry!" I exclaim, stumbling backwards. The person grabs my arm to stop me from falling.

"Nah, don't worry." I look up to see Peeta standing in front of me. He releases my arm and grins.

"I didn't see you coming." I shrug.

"Neither did I," Peeta says. "My Dad's been overgenerous, again." He comments. I open the paper bag. Sure enough, there are a dozen or so bread rolls at the bottom of the bag. I roll my eyes.

"He always is." I sigh.

"He needs to be careful though. Mom counts what is made."

"Take these back," I insist, pushing the bag at Peeta. "I don't want you to get into any trouble."

"I wont say anything if you don't," Peeta says with a tilt of his head. He locks his jaw and curls his hands into fists. The wind ruffles his blonde curls. I shake my head. "How's the baby?" He asks.

"Whose baby?" I ask stupidly.

"Umm… ours, I guess." Peeta says awkwardly, his cheeks turning pink. He kicks at the ground, his shiny black boots getting coated in dust. I look down at my brown boots, the wear and tear they clearly display making me shuffle back.

"Oh!" I exclaim. "You mean the flour bag."

"Uh, yeah." Peeta says, raising an eyebrow.

"It's fine. I left it at home."

"At home?"

"That sounds really bad, don't it?" I laugh.

"You thought about tonight?"

"I think I'll come." I decide. Peeta's face lights up.

"I'll meet you at-"

"Seven outside the bakery." I finish for him, turning on my heel.

"See you then?" He calls after me.

"It's date." Katniss replies.

**-Peeta-**

Shit.

I stand there, dumbfounded, as Katniss walks away. I had to physically restrain myself from kissing her when she walked into me.

I totally saw her coming.

She didn't see me.

I run a hand through my hair and turn away as she disappears in the dip of the sloping path and begin to walk back into the bakery. I can only hope that she didn't see me pulling a face.

And then I _blushed_. Like a complete girl.

Why can't I be cool around girls like Fen and Rye are? I mean, Fen is all charm and complements, whereas Rye is flirting and teasing. Maybe I'm a mix of the both. Charming, but flirting. I don't think compliments and teasing go well together.

I step into the kitchen, wiping my feet on the doormat, and don't expect the light slap to the cheek I receive from Rye.

"She was out there, wasn't she?" He asks with a playful wink.

"Shove off." I say, pushing past him.

"Are you blushing?" Rye asks. I ignore him. "Sometimes I make myself laugh!" Rye shouts.

"Peeta? Are you back?" Mom asks me as go into the shop.

"Yes."

"What took you so long?" She snaps.

"Give him a break, Aymee." Dad says.

"Money?"

"Forty silvers." I report mechanically.

"Good," Mom says, putting the money in the till with a satisfied smile on her lips. "Now, go and ice the Dander's wedding cake."

"Yes ma'am." I nod my head, retreating to the back into the kitchen.

"Everdeen going to the party?" Rye asks me as I pull the cake from the pantry and set it on the rotating stand.

"Yeah, why?" I ask, looking up at my brother as I wash my hands.

"Don't kiss her." Rye says.

"I'm not going to kiss her." I reply, placing the coloured icing on the table.

"Don't do anything."

"I'm not going to do anything!" I say. "I'm not stupid!" Rye's lips twitch as he tries his hardest not to grin manically.

"You know she's fucking Hawthorne, right?"

"She isn't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do!" I say. Rye chuckles. After a couple minutes of peaceful silence, Rye speaks again.

"You're worrying about it now, aren't you?"

"No." I state.

But, dear God am I worrying. Katniss hangs around with Hawthorne an awful lot. Who knows what they get up to behind the fence? I shake my head and fill the icing bags with pink frosting. I doubt Katniss would do that.

The fact that Hawthorne likes her a lot in obvious, but I don't think she sees him in that way. She sees him as a brother.

I wonder what she sees me as.

At three thirty, Mom reluctantly closes the bakery and pulls on her newest dress. Dad takes their overnight bags down to the front of the shop. Mom lines Fenton, Rye and myself up and inspects us.

Great-Aunt Grace lives in a large house at the outskirts of the district. She married young and when he died of a fever five years later, she was left with a house and three kids to look after.

But that was no problem. She had money.

Mom always acts differently around her, and expects her husband and sons to be respectful and helpful when we visit.

"Tuck in your shirt, Rye," She orders. Rye grumbles but does as he's told. "Tie your laces, Fenton." Fen kneels down and ties his laces. "You're lucky to be staying here this time, Peeta." She addresses me.

"Why?" I ask. She narrows he eyes into slits.

"Because right now your hair is a mess! Look at your shirt! Look at your boots!" She exclaims. "Next time we visit, I do not want a repeat of last time."

I can see Rye laughing silently out of the corner of my eye.

Last time we visited Great-Aunt Grace; I spilt wine all over the cream coloured bearskin adorning the living room floor. It was an accident. Rye tripped me up.

"Yes ma'am."

"Now, listen here," Mom says. "I want you to look after this house. Do not allow anyone in. Do not mess around. Do your choirs. Only serve from seven a.m. till ten a.m. You understand?"

"Yes ma'am." I say.

"One more thing, before we leave." Mom says.

"Yes?"

"If you even think about bringing a girl here, or anyone for that matter, I will wring your neck with my bare hands," Mom jabs a long-nailed finger into my chest, looking up at me with beady eyes. Over the past two years, I've grown much taller. Mom's the shortest now. I think it intimidates her a little.

"Ha! Peeta bringing a girl back?" Rye laughs. "That's likely!" Mom whirls round to face Rye.

"You can't talk!" She barks, her eyebrows knitted together. "If I catch you sniffing around Aunt Grace's maid again, I'll see to it that you are locked in your room for a month!" I bite the inside of my cheeks in an effort to stop laughing. Rye scowls.

Mom and my brothers head outside and begin walking. Dad pats me on the shoulder.

"Have fun, son." He says. "But be careful." He locks gaze with me.

Dad has a thing about drinking. When he was about seventeen, he went drinking with a group of guys form school and one of his friends was so intoxicated that he clambered on top of a horse. The horse didn't appreciate the boy's drunken advances and swiftly kicked in the head.

He died an hour later.

When Fen came home from a friend's stag night a more than a little tipsy, he sat with him all night to make sure he didn't throw up in his sleep.

When Rye didn't come home after a night out, however, Dad searched for hours with Fenton until he found his second son passed out in a paper party hat and a tutu. The mystery of where the tutu came from remains unsolved.

"I'll be responsible." I promise.

"I mean it." Dad says.

"So do I."

Dinner is a quiet occasion. I cook one of the squirrels Katniss traded earlier with my father and eat it stretched out on the sofa, the TV remote in my lap with no family taking it from me and pushing me onto the floor.

At five-thirty, I mop the kitchen floors and the shop front. I fold the clothes I washed after Dad finally left and put them in their respective rooms. The clock on the wall strikes six. I draw the shutters on the storefront and hop into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I find myself standing in nothing but a towel, staring at my wardrobe. What do I wear?

I'm guessing that Bron isn't requesting that his guests turn up in black and white ballroom attire.

After twenty minutes of umming and ahhing, I pull on a blue shirt and black jeans. I pull a brush through my slightly damp hair and stand in front of the full-length mirror in my parent's room examining myself. I mess my hair slightly. I adjust my shirt. I groan and walk downstairs, pulling my wrestling hoodie.

"Casual it is." I say as I double knot the laces on my boots. I peer out through the shutters, the street outside illuminated in a buttery yellow glow as the sun disappears over the mountains. I lock the back door of the bakery and pace around the kitchen. I eat a cheese bun to calm my nerves.

Three short knocks on the door alert me of Katniss' arrival. I glance at the clock. It's dead on seven.

Counting to ten, a wait before opening the door. Katniss stands there, a small smile on her lips. She's wearing a green dress that cuts off just above her knees. She's still wearing her hunting boots, which makes me smile.

Boots are Katniss. Dresses are not.

"I feel underdressed." I say.

"I feel overdressed." Katniss replies.

"You look beautiful." I say, swallowing thickly.

"Thank you," Katniss says timidly. Her eyes roam over me. "You look handsome."

"I just threw this on." I say. Katniss' Seam grey eyes flicker. She smiles.

"You ready to go?" She asks. I nod, realising that we've just been standing there for thirty seconds.

"Yeah, let me just lock up." I say. I leave the front light on, pull the key around my neck out and lock the front door.

The music can be heard from the top of the road. Katniss falters, as we get closer to the Whester household.

"You alright?" I ask her.

"I shouldn't be here." She says.

"Why not?" I ask. "Everyone's here."

"I don't fit in."

"No, you don't," I say. "That's why you should defiantly be here." I curse myself internally. How come when I'm around this girl, the connection between my brain and mouth is severed? But Katniss smiles softly and continues walking.

I knock on the front door, batting a moth away as it flies near my face.

"You don't like moths?" Katniss asks.

"They're weird." I admit. Katniss laughs. The door swings open.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Bron asks, his lip turned up as he glances at Katniss.

"She is attending." I say.

"Nah she ain't." Bron shakes his head, blocking the doorway.

"You said everyone was invited."

"Everyone but her."

"There are other Seam kids here."

"Yeah, and?" Bron says.

"I'll just go…" Katniss mumbles from beside me, turning and stepping away.

"Do me a favour?" I ask Bron. He stares up at me with bleary eyes. I can see that the alcohol drinking has started.

"Don't be any louder than you would in your own home." Bron says. I look at Katniss, who has stopped at the end of the path.

"Come on." I encourage her. She bites her lip.

"You better not make me regret this." She says, walking into the noisy house.

* * *

_**Sorry if this was a little short, but just remember, the real fun starts in the next chapter! R & R!**_


	5. Chapter 5: Teenage Kicks

**OMG! So many follows! You have no idea how happy I am! Thanks to everyone who has read this story :)**

**Now, this is the chapter when things get interesting… And btw, this is party is based on one I've been to (though in this story there are a few variations ;D) so I've been writing this from memory. I hope you enjoy!**

**Sorry for the extra long wait, but my computer had a meltdown :(**

**I'm going to try and put songs to each chapter (I probably should've started on chapter 1… ah well).**

**Teenage Kicks- The Undertones**

* * *

-Katniss-

I'm not sure whether I should be surprised or flattered at Peeta's persistence at making Bron allow me into his house. Bron's never liked me. I don't know why. I've never done anything to him.

Peeta laughs as I scowl at him, and I step over the threshold. Being the son of the blacksmith, Bron's house is fairly big, one of the biggest in the Merchant area of District 12.

Although the blacksmith can be expensive, most of 12's people go to Mr Whesters when their animals need to have their shoes mended, or new shoes fitted. Mr Whesters makes the metal shoes _and _fits then all in one appointment, so he's made quite a profit.

"Look, Everdeen," Bron says, shutting the door behind us. "I don't you causin' trouble."

"How would I cause trouble?" I ask, frowning at the Merchant standing in front of me.

"You keep saying that." Bron says, walking off down the hallway, kicking Coal and Scarlet who are kissing by the wall with a grunt of 'get a room'.

"Charming," I conclude. Peeta chuckles. "Why is he so grumpy?"

"Bron is an angry drunk." Peeta shrugs. I frown.

"How do you know?"

"I've been to parties like this before."

"I thought you didn't like Bron." I say, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't. But who's gonna miss a party just because the host's a dick?" I blink, surprised at Peeta's cursing. He continues to walk, further into the house and I pause once we get into the kitchen.

This isn't just a party; this is a celebration of mass proportions.

The kitchen is joined to the dining room, which has had all it's furniture moved to somewhere else in the house, providing the people who have turned up with a place to dance and drink. I peek past the throngs of people and see that the living room opens out into a large garden. This house is more like a mansion. A smaller version of the Undersee's.

"I can't do this." I mumble, taking a step back.

"Why not?"

"I didn't expect this many people to be here," I hiss. "And everyone's drunk."

"You'll be fine." Peeta reassures me.

"There are hardly any Seam kids here." I say stubbornly.

"Yeah there are," Peeta nods, gesturing over to a group of Seam residents sat on the floor, backs against the wall, empty glass beer bottles up against their face like binoculars. "And I'll look after you, don't worry."

I bite my lip and look up at Peeta. "Fine." I say. Peeta grins.

I follower the baker's son through the crowd. He grips my hand at one point, as to not loose me and doesn't let go.

"Katniss!" Madge shouts, jumping up from the floor and running up to me. "I didn't think you were coming!"

"I'm here now, aren't I?" I grin. Madge pulls me into her arms.

"Holding Peeta's hand, are we?" She whispers into my ear before pulling away. My eyes widen and I yank my hand from Peeta's, blush on my cheeks.

"Have you had something to drink?" I ask her.

"Yeah, it's only from the punch bowl, but it's stronger than what I have at home." She giggles, her eyes shining.

"Are you here with Mitch?" I ask.

"Yeah," My friend nods enthusiastically. "He completely surprised me when he came and knocked on my door. I think Dad was a bit shocked. He kept asking Mitch loads of questions, like 'Have you ever broken the law?' and 'Do you have any tattoos?'" Madge puffs her chest out, her midnight blue, shimmery dress rustling.

"And what did Mitch say?" I ask her with a grin.

"Yes, to both," Madge laughs. "At least he was honest!"

"Everyone's broken the law," I shake my head. "But he's got a tattoo?"

"Yeah, his oldest brother's name on his wrist in some Dark Days language called Arabic." Madge shrugs. Mitch's older brother died of lung disease shortly after his eighteenth birthday.

Madge pushes me over to the punch bowl, but is stopped when Mitch steps in front of her, shoving a plastic cup in her face.

"What's this?" She asks, taking the cup and giving the liquid inside a sniff, her nose wrinkling.

"Just try it." Mitch grins. Madge narrows her eyes as she takes a sip.

"This is disgusting," Madge sniffs. "Try some, Katniss."

"Have your own cup." Peeta says to me, handing me a cup identical to Madge's.

I stare down at the brown liquid filling the cup with a grimace.

"Go on, Everdeen." Mitch urges me on, throwing an arm round Madge's shoulders.

"You can do it Katniss." Madge grins.

"Have you ever had alcohol before?" Peeta asks from beside me.

"There's a first time for everything," I say with a shrug. I tip my head back and swallow down the drink as fast as I can. It burns my throat, and my nose begins to feel funny. "Urgh." I shudder.

"Nice one." Peeta laughs. I turn to Madge with a manic smile on my lips.

"Now you have to do it." I say to her.

"I can drink more than all you three, _combined_." Madge scoffs, drinking the alcohol and giving me a pointed look.

"Sure, whatever." Mitch laughs.

"You're looking at the king, right there." Peeta points at his friend. Mitch grins.

"I can out-drink everyone." He says proudly. I raise both my eyebrows.

"Except Rye." Peeta coughs loudly, looking in the other direction.

"He's had more practice." Mitch scowls.

"Sure, sure," Peeta grins, slapping his hand on Mitch's back. "_Light weight_." He whispers, just loud enough to Madge and I to hear. We exchange amused glances.

"Needn't I remind you of two months ago?" Mitch asks, brushing off Peeta's insult. Peeta freezes.

"We're never going back there." Peeta says, his eyes hard, his lips turned up in a grin.

"Tell me." I speak up.

"Well, it all started when Peeta drank a whole bottle of-" Mitch starts with a regal tone, but is cut off when Peeta puts him in a headlock. Madge laughs.

"Shut up!" He cries, his blue eyes wide.

"He drank a whole bottle of vodka… and…and…" Mitch struggles to talk.

I crouch down to face Mitch full on. "Tell me!" I demand curiously.

"And he was dared to streak through the district and he was caught by Darius and escorted back to his house!" Mitch garbles, his eyes bright, his face purple.

I almost fall over, clutching my stomach with laughter.

"You bastard!" Peeta exclaims, shoving his friend in the shoulder. "You promised me you wouldn't say anything!"

"Everybody knows!" Mitch laughs breathlessly. Peeta runs a hand through his hair awkwardly, his cheeks pink.

"Oh my God." I gasp, struggling to breath as I climb to my feet.

"I'm telling you, it was a sight to see." Mitch laughs.

"It didn't help that you hid my clothes and took photos." Peeta mutters, rolling his eyes.

"Photos?" Madge asks, grinning devilishly. "I want to see them."

"Aha, nah you don't." Peeta says, waving his hands in the air.

"The ladies asked nicely," Mitch says, pulling his phone out. "Now, if you look closely-"

"That's enough for one night!" Peeta interrupts grabbing the phone and running away. Mitch runs after him. I look at Madge.

"This is gonna be fun." She smiles.

"I'm going to agree." I nod my head.

"You wanna go find them?"

"Yup."

We make our way through the crowd, arm in arm and I look around. So this is what a party looks like.

I'm not saying that I've never been to a party before, because I have been to small gatherings, where the adults drink something bought from Ripper's stall and we dance along to music from our own mouths.

Here it's completely different.

I can smell alcohol in the air, and every single room is filled with people. I can tell that there isn't a single sober person in this house.

We find Peeta and Mitch in the garden rolling around on the ground. Peeta is the one with the advantage, the years of wrestling providing him with tactics to use. He pins Mitch down quickly, and doesn't let him go until he's hitting the ground with his hand and waving his legs about.

"Jesus, Peet." He says, rolling over onto his back and trying to get his breath back. Peeta stands and salutes him good-naturedly. Madge helps Mitch up and squeezes his hand. I shoot her a look and she shrugs.

"So, you streaked around 12, did you?" I ask Peeta with a grin. He comes down from his victory of beating Mitch and sighs, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"It wasn't my proudest moment." He remarks.

"I can remember hearing Darius talking about something to with 'escorting a young man home at 1 a.m.'." I laugh. Peeta narrows his eyes.

"Yeah, you can get over it now." He says.

"Nah, I'm enjoying seeing you squirm." I say, waggling my finger at him. The alcohol has started to affect me. And that was only one cup full.

"You know that I wont let you get away with it if you continue." Peeta says.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do?" I challenge him, taking a small step backwards.

"Nothing. I'll get you back." Peeta says indifferently, walking away.

"Afraid of Katniss?" Mitch taunts. Madge laughs from beside him.

"What is to be afraid of?" I ask. "It's not like I could beat you at anything." I say with a tilt of my head.

Peeta pauses, his hair glowing white in the moonlight.

He turns and grabs me by the waist before I can move, spinning me around upside down.

"Ahh!" I squeal. "Help me Madge!" I shout.

"Oh, you brought this on yourself." My friend says.

"Mitch! Grab her!" I shout as I'm spun about. I laugh out loud when I hear a scream as Mitch grabs the mayor's daughter.

"Katniss you bitch!" Madge gasps. I laugh, hammering my fists on Peeta's lower back.

"Peeta! Let me go or I'll throw up!" I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Tell me I'm better than you!" Peeta commands.

"No!" I protest.

"Fine!" He laughs. He places me on the ground. I stagger about, the world tilting from left to right, and smooth my dress as calmly with as much dignity as I can. "Then I propose that you partake in some games. I'm sure Bron or someone will have some ideas!"

I narrow my eyes. Peeta folds his arms over his chest.

"If I'm wasted by the end of this, you're explaining to my mother." I say.

"Gladly." Peeta says.

"Madge!" I shout. "We're gonna beat these two idiots in a game of some sort."

"Huh?" Madge asks, shaking her head after being spun about by Mitch. "What type of game?"

"I think I have an idea." Mitch says, looking across at Peeta. We walk back into the house.

"This better not include any nudity." Madge mutters. I laugh.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I note that Katniss and I have been at the party for almost two hours when we step back inside Bron's house.

"Right then!" Bron shouts, standing on a chair and cupping his hands around his mouth as he shouts at his guests. "Listen up! Who wants to play Sip or Dare?"

Several people hoot and Bron climbs down from the chair and grabbing a few bottle blocks from the kitchen.

"What's Sip or Dare?" She asks me, as I sit down against the wall, other guests joining in once they see the extra alcohol.

"It's a game where you either drink some alcohol, or are dared to do something." I explain.

"Is the game you played two months ago?" Katniss asks me with a giddy smile. I hide my face in my hands.

"Yeah."

"So I'm guessing that you get pretty drunk?"

"Exactly." I grin.

The game starts of with everyone choosing to drink, and after half an hour, some people can barely walk straight.

"Everdeen." Bron calls.

"Yeah?" Katniss asks, looking up from her cup.

"Sip or Dare?" The entire group watches, waiting to hear the Seam girl talk.

"I'll take a dare, since you lot are all pussies." She grins manically. Madge laughs, leaning against Mitch.

"Alright!" Bron grins. "What shall we dare her?" I glance at Katniss.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" I ask her.

"What's the worst that can happen?" She asks me, the 's' in worst slurred. I raise an eyebrow. She shoves me on the shoulder. "I'm not gonna streak." She promises me. I feel my cheeks warm slightly and I'm about the make a sarcastic comment when Bron turns, points a wavering finger at the girl sitting beside me and cackles.

"I dare you, to kiss someone in this room." He says.

"Alright then." Katniss shrugs and stands up, wobbling slightly. Mitch catches my eye from across the circle and winks. I roll my eyes.

"But, it has to last for more than 30 seconds and this person has to be the hottest person you see here."

"Don't get your hopes up then." Katniss grins. Bron narrows his eyes. Someone wolf-whistles as Katniss stands in the middle of circle, turning slowly to pick her target. She walks towards Mitch, who widens his eyes. Madge pushes her friend away.

She turns away at the last minute.

The group laughs.

"Come one Everdeen!" Coal shouts. "Get on with it!"

Katniss gives him a finger and bites her lip.

She turns towards me.

My heart catches in my throat.

And then, slowly like she's stalking a rabbit, she walks up to me, crouches down on her knees, and presses her lips to mine.

I don't know how to react. I can hear Mitch hooting, and several _oooo!'_s coming from all around me. Bron is counting down the seconds. And then I realise.

Katniss Everdeen is kissing me.

I put my hands on her jaw, and kiss her back, my heart thumping loudly in my chest. She tastes of alcohol, her lips are soft, and I find myself fighting to pry her mouth open.

She does it for me, and puts a hand on the back of my neck, mussing the curls that are there.

"Time!" Bron bellows, and Katniss pulls away. I sit there, dumbfounded as she elbows her way to sit beside me again.

"Why me?" I ask her, once the game starts up again. I turn my head to look at her and she grins, her cheeks pink, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I think you're pretty cute." She smiles, her eyes fixed on mine.

"Oh." I say.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it. You kissed me back." She adds. I look down at my lap.

"You kissed me first." I say sheepishly.

"Oh, you're playing _that_ card?" She asks, her tone playful.

We sit beside each other in a comfortable silence, laughing in turn as people are dared various things like eating cinnamon and drinking a pint of some sort of mixed stuff in under a minute. When the sip or dare question arrives at Madge, she blushes furiously when she's dared to do one thing in particular.

"Seven Minutes in Heaven, Mayor's daughter." Bron commands, his arm slung loosely over some Merchant's shoulders. She presses a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red imprint of her lips on his skin.

"With who?" Madge exclaims.

"Mitch." I shout. Mitch locks his jaw.

"Go on!" Katniss calls. Madge looks at Mitch. She takes his hand. He leads her out of the room.

With the stealth of a _herd_ of elephants in a china shop, the entire group follows in hot pursuit and gathers around a broom cupboard in the hallway. The music is too loud to hear anything, but once the seven minutes are up, Bron pulls the doors open and Madge screams, pulling away from Mitch.

"Madge!" Katniss gasps grabbing her friend.

"He pulled the door open!" Madge says, her eyes wide.

"You were kissing him!"

"You kissed Peeta!" Madge says, giving me an odd look.

"All's fair." Mitch says, fighting his way through the crowd with a grin on his lips.

For the rest of the evening, our time is spent drinking, playing games and dancing.

"Sorry guys! There's only punch left!" Bron shouts over the crowd, staggering about with an empty bottle gripped in his fist. I wonder how he could afford so much alcohol, it seemed like he had an endless supply stashed away. Clearly not.

"Can you get me a dur-rink, Pee-taaa?" Katniss asks me, the alcohol affecting her speech.

"Sure." I laugh. I walk to the punch bowl in a daze, feeling slightly dizzy. Once I reach the punch bowl, I see Bron pouring what looks like the very last bottle of a clear liquid into the punch bowl.

"It's not very alcoholic," He explains to me as I walk over. "Everyone needs to loosen up a bit."

"What is that?" I ask him, ladling some of the red punch into two plastic cups.

"I dunno… My Dad sometimes drinks it, but only once in a shot glass." Bron smiles.

"Must be pretty strong." I observe.

"Yep." Bron grins. I take a mouthful, my throat burning as I swallow it.

"Fucking hell…" I say, blinking rapidly, scrunching my face up in disgust. I walk away, and hand Katniss her cup.

"I feel like I don't have a care in the world!" She says to me after taking a big gulp of her drink.

"I know the feeling!" I say, my eyes wide.

"Is it normal for my fingers to be tingling?"

"Uh, yeah, I suppose." I say.

"You wanna dance?" She continues, holding out her hand. I finish my drink, place the empty cup with the growing collection on the kitchen worktop, and join Katniss. She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest. I hug her close to me.

"You alright?" I ask her.

"For my first time drinking, I'm go…ooo…od." Katniss hiccups.

"You've never had alcohol before?" I ask her.

"Nah- only a little bit at parties at Gale's and stuff."

"Does Gale drink?" I ask her, my concerns about the older boy exaggerated in my fuzzy mind.

"Not that I know of but once-" Katniss stops talking, bursting into a fit of giggles, remembering something funny. I begin laughing too, and for next minute or so, we just sway from side to side laughing our heads off. "But once he had too much and we had to carry him back to his house. He kept saying that he was the king and that we all being awful servants." Katniss breathes, looking up at me.

"Have you ever done anything funny?" She asks.

"Apparently I came home once and tried to climb into the pigpen and sleep with the pig," I say. Katniss chuckles. "But Rye came home once with a tutu on and no-one knows why?"

"You'd look good in a tutu." Katniss muses.

"Definitely." I say.

A loud cheers goes up from somewhere in the room, and Katniss and I look around, seeing an intoxicated guy lying on the floor among scattered cups, crying his eyes out.

"You're all losers!" He sobs dramatically. Katniss laughs.

"You can build it again!" Someone else offers.

"Don't push it over this time." The boy says. He sits up and begins to build a pyramid out of the used cups.

The clock on the wall strikes midnight, and half of Bron's guests have staggered out of the front door- some through windows- and begun wandering the streets, singing at the tops of their voices.

Bron however, has passed out on the floor, the tile beside him covered in drool.

"Wait here." Katniss says, running as gracefully as she can into the kitchen. I sit on the floor, resting my head on the wall behind me. Katniss returns with a marker in her hand, she sits beside Bron, pulls the lid of the pen off with her teeth and draws a line between Bron's eyebrows. She goes on to draw a moustache and then, the finish it off, she draws a penis on his forehead. She and Madge erupt into a fit of giggles, tears streaming down their cheeks.

"I'm gonna take Madge home. Her Dad wanted her back at twelve." Mitch tells me, slapping me on the shoulder.

"Wanna make a good impression mate?" I ask my friend.

"Obviously."

"You like Madge don't you?"

"Yeah," Mitch grins. "And you like Everdeen."

"Kinda." I shrug.

"Shu-rup." Mitch garbles. We go to help our partners from the floor, but end up laughing along with them.

"Are you fucking kiddin' me?" Denny Small, the school bully shouts.

"What's your problem?" I ask him. If I was sober, I would've walked away, but now I'm practically asking for trouble. Denny's a time bomb sober, but drunk he's a nightmare.

"Why did you bring that slut with you?" He asks, pointing an accusing finger at Katniss. "You know she's with Hawthorne."

"I am not!" Katniss hisses.

"Gale gonna hit you if you say a bad word 'bout him?" Denny asks.

"Knock it off guys." I say, my eyebrows knitted together.

"Why should I?" Denny asks, folding his arms across his chest. "You shouldn't have brought her here."

"Why not?"

"She's the lowest of Seam scum."

"You have no right to say that," Katniss snarls. "You're no better than Cray."

You can hear the sharp intake pf breath from the people standing around.

Cray is the Head Peacekeeper of District 12 and I known for his 'private business', though it's not a secret that he often takes in young girls and gets them to exchange their bodies for a bag of gold coins. That's how desperate people can get when food and money is scarce.

Denny's face seems to grow darker, his lip curling and his eyes narrowing.

"Say it again, Everdeen." He growls, his fists curling.

"You're no better than _Cray_." Katniss repeats, her inhibitions thrown out of the window as she repeats her insult.

Denny lurches forward towards to Katniss and I jump in front of her, pulling her out of the way. Denny barrels into me, and I am pushed up against the wall.

"You're a whore!" Denny roars. "An ugly, pathetic whore!" Katniss brushes her dress down with as much dignity as she can summon, her cheeks pink, and walks away. I stare after her. She's leaving?

"Get off me!" I spit, pushing Denny away. He retaliates and swings his arm around to punch me. I swerve out of the way at the last moment and serve a quick hit to his gut. He stumbles backwards, clutching his stomach, and vomits over the carpet. I walk away, leaving him lying on the floor.

"Katniss?" I call, pushing my way past various people.

"Peeta?" Mitch says. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, where's Katniss?"

"She came running out and said that you got into a fight with Denny. She's looking after Madge on the front porch at the moment."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, but why did you fight Denny?" Mitch asks as we exit the party.

"He was being a dick to Katniss," I shrug. "Besides, it wasn't much of a fight. He threw up after one punch to the stomach."

"Nasty." Mitch wrinkles his nose.

Sitting on the porch in the cold night air, Katniss sits beside Madge, their shoulders touching as they lean against each other.

"Katniss?" I say, tapping her on the shoulder. She jumps, her eyes still half-closed. "Were you asleep?"

"No, no. I wasn't. No," She mumbles. "I'm sorry for running, but in needed to get Mitch to help you… and… Madge couldn't be left alone… and…" She trails off, clutching at her head. I take her hand and pull her up. Mitch pulls Madge into his arms and she yawns.

"I'll see you later." He says, guiding Madge away.

"Bye." I grin, wrapping an arm around Katniss' shoulders. Mitch and Madge walk off into the distance, and I turn to Katniss.

"You wanna come back to my place for a drink?" I ask her. She looks up at me, her eyes shining.

"But my head hurts. I can't drink any more." She grumbles, squinting in the butter yellow streetlight.

"I'll give you coffee, not more alcohol." I laugh. Katniss blinks and then smiles.

"But Mom and Prim will be wondering where I am if I don't turn up."

"I don't think they'll mind if you stay for a little while longer." I say, tugging her forward along the dusty pathway.

It takes about ten minutes to walk back to my house. I unlock the front door, the lock sounding extra loud in the empty street.

Once Katniss is inside, I lead her through the front of the bakery, and into the kitchen.

"You can sit down." I say, turning to see her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, her braid messy, clutching at her head.

"Why does my head hurt so much?" Katniss asks me. I chuckle, my head stinging from the bright kitchen light.

"You should wait till mornin', it's worse when you have a hangover."

"Is that why you're drinking coffee?" Katniss asks me. I look up at her. She grimaces. "I'm sorry. I not good at this." She motions around.

"At drinking coffee with a guy?"

"At being so pissed that I can barely walk, talk or think straight," Katniss says. I smile, and hand her a mug of coffee. She gulps it down, and then rests her head on the table.

"I'll drink this, and then walk you home," I say. Katniss looks up at me. I reach my hand out and brush her cheek. She freezes, staring at me with kitten-grey eyes. "You had an… eyelash." I murmur.

"Thank you." Katniss whispers.

"You're welcome." I say softly. I bring the chipped enamel cup with 'Mellark's' written on it to my lips.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Katniss asks suddenly.

"Pardon- what?" I splutter, coffee dribbling from my mouth. I cough and wipe my mouth, embarrassed at my reaction and surprised at the Seam girl's question.

I look at her, sitting in the kitchen of my home, her tanned skin complementing her dress perfectly. Her eyes, that upon closer inspection (something I haven't been able to do without looking weird) are not just grey, but a mix of greys, flecks of blue, and dashes of gold. I store the image deep in the recesses of my mind to sketch later on.

Her hair, darker than coal that lines our streets, is shining. I look back up her body, and notice her watching me.

"Do I think you're pretty?" I choke out.

"Yes." Katniss says.

"Is this about what Denny said?" I ask her. She looks down. I take it as a yes. "Katniss, you should ignore him."

"Answer my question, please," Katniss says, placing her hand over mine. My skin tingles at the contact. I swallow- no, I _gulp_.

"Do you think that I'm a pathetic, ugly whore, the lowest of Seam scum?"

I take a deep breath before answering. How do I say this without sounding creepy?

"No." I force out.

"No, to what?"

"To all of it. I don't think you're a whore. I don't think you're pathetic, and I don't think you're ugly." Katniss' eyes soften.

"What do you think I am?" She persists.

"I think that you are a strong, independent person." I say, avoiding her main question.

"But," She says, biting her lip and standing up. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

The alcohol in Katniss' system is making her act this way.

But I really don't mind.

My heart quickens as she steps closer to me, placing a hand on my thigh.

"I… I…err…" I stutter. She draws closer, her nose inches from mine. I can feel her soft exhales on my skin.

What is happening?

_What am I doing?_

**What is _she_ doing?**

My brain is screaming at me to take her home to her family, not to let her do anything she regrets just because I took her to a party and got her drunk out of her mind.

But the other half, the momentarily dominant part of my mind, is pushing my sensible thoughts aside and urging me on- daring me to see how far I can push it.

"Yes," I whisper.

Katniss presses her lips to mine and wraps her arms around my neck, running her fingers through my hair like she did at Bron's house.

I pull her closer, just like before, and this time she opens her mouth, sliding her tongue forward to run it over my bottom lip. A soft moan escapes me, and I stand, knocking over the stool, the loud bang it makes causing us to jump and pull away. We stare at each other, our chests heaving.

"Let's go upstairs." Katniss suggests.

"Upstairs?" I say. She nods, and I turn, her hand in mine, and lead her up the stairs and along the dark hallway.

I've never been so glad that my family are gone.

Inside my bedroom, Katniss pushes her jacket from her shoulders and drops it by the door.

"I need you, Peeta." She says. I step forward, pushing her up against the door, holding her face in my hands. She runs her hands over my chest, and I press kisses down her neck.

"I need you too." I reply. Katniss pushes me back, onto my bed, and pulls my hoodie over my head, my hair sticking up when she pulls it over my face.

My shirt is unbuttoned in seconds, and I pull her down on to the bed, propping myself up on my hands to lean over and kiss her. She kicks her boots off, and sits up, sliding her dress off. I almost have a heart attack.

Her hands send shivers down my spine as they roam over my chest and back.

Before my drunken brain can realise, her hands find her way down to the top of my jeans. Her nimble fingers undo the button, and she pulls them down. I yank them off, with some sort of heated desperation, and lean back down to kiss her, my fingers undoing her braid. Her hair pools on the pillows of my bed like spilt ink and she looks at me.

"I want to kiss you." I confess.

"Kiss me then." Katniss says teasingly with a tilt of her head.

My lips trail down over her skin until I find her bra. My breathing hitches.

Katniss undoes the bra and lets it slide down her arms. She drops I on the floor, along with her underwear, and then looks up at me, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"I'm naked." She states.

"I know." I gasp, looking anywhere but her.

"You aren't."

"I know." I repeat.

"I want you to be. It should be fair," She pouts. She pulls my boxers down. I hold in a groan. "You can look at me, Peeta." Katniss says.

"I can't."

"If I can look at you, you can look at me." She says quietly. I look away from my headboard and finally at Katniss.

She's bathed in the milky blue moonlight streaming through my open bedroom. It illuminates the darkness of my room just enough for me to able to see her, and my cheeks redden as my eyes travel over her cat-like eyes that are studying me attentively, the curve of her nose, the freckles scattered over her skin. Her parted lips, her elegant neck. Her breasts at full and round, her nipples pebbled. I feel myself stiffen. Her waist is small, her ribs sticking out, but still muscular from all the hunting she does. And then, her legs, stretched out around me. I can't bring myself to look at her centre. So instead I just lean in and kiss her again.

"Now, Peeta. Do it now." Katniss pants into my ear, spreading her legs.

Without a second thought, I slide into her, a feral groan rattling through me. Katniss pulls me close and kisses me slowly. I pull my hips back, and then push myself forward again. After several slow thrusts, Katniss' back arches on my mattress and I speed up, gripping her hips as her nails dig into my back. She mewls against my sweating skin as she climaxes, raking her nails down my back and sides. I thrust into her one last time and release my load into her, before collapsing onto her, my head resting on her stomach.

Once she's down from her euphoric high, she runs her hands through my hair. Sliding back up her jelly-like body, I kiss her again, paying attention to the soft area behind her earlobe.

"I'm sleepy," Katniss murmurs between kisses, her voice raspy. "Stay with me?" I look up at her and roll over onto my pillows, pulling her into my arms.

"Always." I whisper my reply into the darkness. Katniss' breathing levels out, and her grip on my arm loosens as she falls asleep. The alcohol sends me into a deep sleep, my head spinning.


	6. Chapter 6: Morning Light

**Yet again, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed/followed/favourited! **

**This chapter is a bit of a filler chapter, but it's necessary. T(Having a shorter chapter means that I'll update in the next few days as well, so it isn't that bad! ;)) Thanks for reading!**

Grade 8- Ed Sheeran.

* * *

**-Katniss-**

My dreams are pleasant. Most nights I dream of horrible things; my father dying in the mines, Prim dying- her bones sticking out from under her sallow skin, Mom's vacant eyes staring blankly at her two daughters.

But now I dream of Prim and my mother laughing together in our small garden, making crowns from daisies. I dream of my father and I, in the forest. And this time, he isn't blown up.

It's the sound of a bird tweeting that wakes me from my peaceful slumber. I keep my eyes closed, listening for the animal's song through the bleary mess of my sleepy mind.

_Warbler._

An image of the blue-bellied bird pops into my mind as I listen to its high-pitched tweeting and stretch my limbs like a cat, my toes curling on the soft mattress. I frown, and rub my palm over the bed. I could've sworn that my bed wasn't this comfortable two days ago. Did Mom buy a new sheet? Did she knit a new one? Even so, the coarse thread and wool she usually used wasn't this soft.

My eyes snap open, but I squeeze them shut again, morning sunlight shining straight in my eyes. I now know what a hangover feels like, my head is spinning, my throat is sore, and I feel lightheaded. I rub the heel of my palms against my eyes and breathe in and out through my nose. Once my head has stopped throbbing as violently, I re-open my eyes.

Where am I?

This is not my room.

This is not my house.

This is not my bed.

As quietly as I can, I sit up, and find that I'm completely naked. I can see my boots lying on their sides on the floor. I cover my chest with a bed sheet, and take a deep breath. I look to my left. A blonde head lies on the pillow next to me.

Peeta.

I bring a hand to my mouth. And stare at the boy lying beside me, his arm flung out over the bed, almost touching me, his body half-covered by a worn bed sheet. He's blissfully unaware that I'm here, naked in his bed. I bite my lip, and attempt to slide of the bed, only to freeze when Peeta mutters something under his breath and rolls over. I freeze. I look over my shoulder and watch him, my eyes wide. He wrinkles his nose, scratches his jawline, and rolls back over, facing his open bedroom window. My cheeks warm when his muscled lower back and ass are uncovered, and I tiptoe around the room, pulling on my dress, picking my boots and jacket from the floor, and hastily re-braid my hair, all the while keeping watch on the sleeping baker lying in front of me

Pressing my ear up against the bedroom door, I listen for sounds of people outside his bedroom. When I'm sure I can hear nothing, I pull the door open and step into the corridor. My heart skips a beat when I hear coughing from behind the door I've just come through, and I dart towards the nearest door, finding myself standing in a boiler closet, pressed up against shelves of drying towels and clothes.

I wait, my heart pounding as I peek through a gap in the door, and watch Peeta walk-stark naked- to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Once the door has closed, I dart down the stairs, push open a window in the bakery kitchen and jump down into the back streets.

"Get lost you filthy brat!" A merchant woman screeches, and I fall into the trash cans outside the bakery in my haste to escape the road. I flee back home, the early morning sun casting a long shadow on the dusty track beneath me as I head towards the Seam.

It's only when I get home that I realise what I've done.

Why else would I be sharing a bed with one of my classmates, my clothes and his strewn all over the floor?

I splash cold water over my face, gripping the side of the sink. What have I just done? I have to try and control my breathing as I slump into a kitchen chair. Does Peeta realise what has happened now? How am I going to face him at school on Monday? I hold my head in my hands and groan.

"Katniss?" I hear Prim asks softly. I look up. "Where have you been?" She exclaims. I scrub my face with my hands.

"I had a bit to drink and stayed at Madge's house." I lie. Prim frowns.

"Are you okay?"

"No, can you get something to ease my headache?" I ask my younger sister.

"I'll get you some sage leaves." Prim nods, disappearing into another room. I rest my head on the worn table top, only lifting it when Prim places a chipped mug of Sage tea in front of me. I drink the liquid down, waiting for my head to clear. Maybe then I'll be able to think through the last twenty-four hours.

I pull on my pants, jacket and boots and go to the forest, stripping off into my undergarments and jumping into the lake my father showed me when I was younger. The water has a chill to it, and I'm only able to stay submerged for a short while. I scrub my skin and hair, trying to wash away last night. As I dry myself off, I wrack my brain, trying to remember what I can. I remember kissing Peeta at Bron's house, and again at his house.

How did I get to the bakery? My forehead creases as I think. Did Peeta invite me back to his home? Did I follow him? I shake my head, pulling my jacket back on and re-braiding my damp hair. I need to stop thinking about this or it will drive me crazy. I shoot an arrow angrily at a knot in a nearby oak tree, but my anger is real. I feel unsure of myself. I feel conflicted.

I feel guilty.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

My first thought is:

Why am I naked?

I've slept in the nude before, but that's only in the summer months when it's too hot to wear anything, let alone has bed sheets. But it's autumn now, and the stifling heat that was once here is now beginning to fade away, so there's no need to sleep with no clothes.

I stand, and pull on a pair of jeans before sticking my head out of my open bedroom window, taking in a big lungful of air, trying to clear my hung over mind. The clock on my bedroom wall tells me that it's midday. I groan, dropping my head, and walk down the corridor into the bathroom.

I wash my face with water, wincing as the skin on my back stretches. I turn, looking over my shoulder at my back in the mirror.

"What the?" I frown, my eyes widening.

Four long red lines stretch from my shoulder blades to the middle of my back. I run my hand over the raw skin, squinting at my reflection. How did I get these? I roll my shoulders pull on a shirt, and head down to the bakery. Mom keeps her 'headache' pills locked in a small tin behind the bread bin sitting on the kitchen table. I find the tin, and crack the lock open, and take three of the little capsules into my hand. I swallow them down with a glass of water, push the lock back into place, and hide the tin again, placing it where I found it.

I spend the next few hours standing at the kitchen worktop, elbow deep in flour, kneading dough for loaves to be served later in the day. For most, I'm sure that they sleep for hours, loading themselves down with coffee, water and pills; trying to be brought out of the haze alcohol brings.

Baking is my release though. I find the rhythmic movement calming, soothing even. By three p.m., I've made two dozen loaves, and finished icing a cake for the Undersees. A sharp rap at the door brings me out of my thoughts. I run my hands under the water of the kitchen tap and run to the front door, wiping my hands on my apron.

"Mr Mellark, why are you not open today?" Marjorie- the old midwife from across the road says, peering up at me with a smile. "I was hoping that you could open just for me, Farrell, I need some fresh bread."

"It's Peeta, Mrs Stark, not my father." I say, letting the old woman in.

"Peeta?" She asks, staring at me. "Ahh, you look so much like your father." She says, giving me a grandmotherly pat on the shoulder.

"What do you need?" I ask her, heading to the counter.

"A fresh loaf, something that will go with everything." Marjorie smiles, pulling out a pouch of coins. I put a new loaf into a paper bag and pass it to the woman.

"That'll be seven coins."

"Seven?"

"It was baked this morning." I say. Marjorie digs the coins out and hands them to me.

"Now, this morning I heard such a clatter outside your house." I frown.

"You did?"

"I did," Marjorie says, nodding her head. "And I saw someone, clambering through the kitchen window and darting down the street. I shouted at them, and they ran straight into the garbage cans," The woman laughs, staring off at the wall behind me. "They disappeared to the left, but I couldn't see where it went after that. I couldn't get there fast enough."

"Did you see them when they were by the bins?" I ask, leaning onto the worktop.

"No, I'm 'fraid not."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. My eyesight isn't what it was anymore," Marjorie says. She pulls her shawl over her shoulders. "I better head off." She tells me.

"Thank you for telling me about the intruder." I smile.

"Thank you for the bread!" Marjorie says as I open the front door for her. "Say hello to your parents for me, and tell Rye that if I catch him messing around with Cathy again, I'll have his guts for garters!" She waggles her finger at me.

"Will do, Mrs Stark. Will do." I say with a smile. I watch the woman wander away, and then close the door again.

It's mid-evening when my family returns from Great-Aunt Grace.

"Rye Mellark!" Mom hisses, slamming the front door. "I have _never_ been so ashamed in my entire life!"

"It wasn't what you thought it was!" Rye insists.

"How long have they been at each other?" I whisper to Dad. He rolls his eyes.

"The entire journey back." Fen replies tiredly.

"Your brother was caught with the maid." Dad frowns, though there's a sparkle in his eyes.

"_Again_?"

"Again," Dad says. "You'd think he'd learn, but no." I shake my head, and look at Rye and Mom.

"You were _kissing the maid_!" Mom exclaims, jabbing her finger into Rye's chest.

"And that was it! Nothing else happened!" Rye says, his eyes wide.

"But that is exactly the problem, Rye," Mom narrows her eyes. "I told you not to do that. I told you that it would lead to something bad. When are you going to get it into that thick head of yours?"

"When are you gonna stop being a bitch and listen to me?" Rye shouts. Mom straightens up, eyeing her son. Rye pauses and backpedals. "Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

The sharp slap to Rye's cheek cuts his apology off.

"You will _never_ call me a bitch again. Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry." Rye says.

"Do you understand?" Mom repeats.

"Yeah." Rye mumbles. Mom scowls.

"Aymee, leave him alone." Dad says when Mom clenches her fists.

"You step one toe out of line you'll be out of this house." Mom threatens, before storming off.

"Fuck this." Rye fumes, walking out the front door and out into the dark street.

No-one goes after him, or tries to stop him. Rye always disappears after an argument with Mom, and normally returns drunk. Fen disappears up to him room, and Dad and I mop the bakery floor in silence.

"You have fun at the party?" He asks me as I pour the muddy water down the drain.

"Yeah, it was fun." I smile.

"How many people were there?"

"I dunno, quite a lot." I shrug.

"You got a hangover?" Dad queries.

"Yup." I groan. Dad grins and I run a hand through my hair.

"How's Katniss?"

"I think she had fun, but I can't really remember very much of last night," I frown. Dad raises his eyebrows. "It's a bit of a blur."

"But normally you can remember what happens, the night after you've drunk a little." Dad says.

"I know. That's what's so confusing." I give him a wry smile.

"So you and Katniss had a nice time?" I nod, and Dad pats me on the shoulder.

"We did. I'm glad she came."


	7. Chapter 7: Confusion

**Ahh! *Balloons and streamers rain down* A massive thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed my story!**

**_Risingfromtheshadows_, your review made me laugh!**

**Enjoy reading! :D**

Not With Haste- Mumford & Sons

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Guilt is a funny thing.

Firstly it causes you to think about the subject in concern all the time, every minute of the day, whatever you do.

I can't stop thinking about Peeta. I haven't seen him since Friday night. I spent Saturday in the forest, and have done exactly the same today. I sit at the top of a tree, breathing in the fresh forest air, appreciating the quiet.

I'm surprised that Peeta hasn't come and spoken to me yet, because I know that I'm not going to be the one to confront him. Although I don't want to think about it, I can't help but wonder if he's going to act as if nothing happened. Maybe he'll completely disregard me at school or when I trade at the bakery.

Shouldn't he at least acknowledge that we slept together? Yeah, we were drunk, but it still had to mean _something_. Even if it was nothing but a mistake, how am I going to face him, or his kind-hearted father?

If his brother's find out, I'll never hear the end of it. His mother is another story completely. She'd explode- steam would probably erupt from her ears if she found out who her son had been fraternizing with. I can only imagine what she'd do to him, or to me.

My mind flits back to days when he'd come into school with red welts painting his face, his eyes swollen and purple. He'd brush the concerns of others away, joking about how 'it wasn't a good idea to wrestle with my brothers' or 'I walked into a wall'. They were petty excuses; the excuses used by the women in our district who were abused by their husbands.

I wasn't the only person to see right through them. Once, in First School, Peeta came to school with his arm in a sling. Of course, his fellow classmates were curious as to what had happened. He claimed he fell off his bike.

We all damn well knew that his mother sold his bike the year before at Christmas time, saying it was a waste of money.

His arm healed- after six months- but he never went to see the proper doctor, or my mother. I heard that Fen and Rye had to make do with the bandages they had at the bakery to hold his arm together after their mother fractured the bone in a fiery rage about something as trivial as leaving his school work on the dining room table.

Clambering down from the tree, my hands scraping over the rough bark, I run at a sprint to meet Gale. I push all thoughts of the baker's son to the back of my mind, begging them to stay down until I can get home and think by myself. Besides, Gale hasn't been able to go hunting for three or four days due to illness, I don't want to keep him waiting.

"You seem occupied, Catnip." Gale observes late Sunday that afternoon as we sit on the rock at our usual meeting spot overlooking the wooded valley.

"Do I?" I murmur, looking out at the horizon.

"Yeah, you do," Gale says. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I'm just thinking." I answer.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Why do you have so many questions?" I ask him, a scowl on my lips.

"Why do you have such blunt answers?" My friend retorts. I roll my eyes. He chuckles.

"I've just got a lot on my mind lately…" I trail off.

"Winter is a month or two away, you don't need to be worried about food just yet." Gale says.

"Thanks," I say, turning my head to look at Gale. "Just another thing to add to my list."

"Your list?" Gale asks. "Jeez Catnip." I shrug in response. Gale falls silent beside me.

"We should get going. If we stay out here for any longer, I'm going to sucked dry." I say, slapping a mosquito away from my arm.

Gale and I stand, and head back down the hill and into the cover of the forest. I shoot one more squirrel down from it'sits perch, and then hide my quiver and bow in hollow trees.

"Are you worried about the Games?" Gale asks, breaking our easy silence. I pause. "Is that it?" Gale frowns.

"Yeah, I'm just worried that I err… won't pass it." I lie. Gale sees right through me.

"Fuck off," He laughs. "You'll pass it just fine. Now tell me the truth."

"You don't need to be bothered." I say, sliding under the fence after checking for patrolling Peacekeepers.

"You're right, I don't," Gale says, following me under the metal. "But as your loyal friend, I am."

"It's nothing."

"Is it Dough Boy?"

"Dough Boy?" I arch an eyebrow. "Really, Gale?"

"Don't change the subject."

"No, it isn't that." I say.

"Yeah it is- you always wrinkle your nose when you're lying." Gale says. I roll my eyes, kicking at the dusty track beneath my feet with my boot.

"He hasn't done anything wrong, I'm in the wrong." I say. Gale tilts his head to one side.

"What happened?"

"Don't do anything Gale."

"I won't." Gale promises.

"You always tilt your head to the side when you're planning something." I mutter. Gale tugs the end of my braid.

"I promise I won't touch him."

"Good, because I want you to forget everything." I say.

"You can't do that, Catnip. Tell me half the story and then leave me hanging!"

"Tough," I say, opening the door of my house. "See you tomorrow."

"You didn't do something you're regretting, did you? Alcohol obviously isn't you're strong point!" Gale shouts. I go to the window and glare at him. He backs away, his hands in the air as he laughs. I roll my eyes, grin and Gale waves jovially at me before disappearing over the curve of the hill.

My happy mood dissipates the moment Gale is out of sight. I slide down the wall, letting out a loud exhale of air.

Shit.

He noticed.

Not that it's difficult to notice how I've been acting these past few days. I just can't get thoughts of Peeta out of my head. How am I going to face him at school? I feel my cheeks heat up at the thought of it. I climb to my feet and go into the kitchen and stand at the table to skin the rabbits and squirrels I've caught.

"Hey Katniss." Prim greets me as she and Mom walk through the front door.

"Hey, how was the birth?" I ask. Prim has been tagging along on Mom's visits around the district, learning as much as she can. Today Mom was called out to assist in a birth. I always get a feeling of fright in my stomach when someone hammers on our door, worrying about a family member or a friend and asking for my mother's help.

"It was good, she had twins." Prim smiles, her eyes bright.

"Twins?" I exclaim.

"She's a Merchant," Mom says, putting her bag on the table. "She'll be able to look after them." I nod.

"How's Gale? Has his cough cleared up yet?" Prim asks.

"He's fine. Thinks he caught it from Posy." I shrug my shoulders and continue to prepare the animal in my hands.

Prim and Mom continue to chatter throughout the evening, making their way out onto the front porch and leaving me to eat my food in peace.

The next morning I wake with a stiff back and a crick in my neck. I fell asleep at the kitchen table. I stand, stretching my limbs and rolling my neck. The cherry wood clock above the fireplace shows that I'm late for school. But if I run, I'll make it with about a minute to spare.

"Prim! Prim! Wake up!" I say, running into the bedroom we share. Prim lifts her head from the pillow, her golden hair sticking out in all directions. "We're late!" I exclaim. Prim's eyes widen and she sits up.

"Why didn't you wake me?" She asks, jumping out from the blankets and grabbing her clothes.

"I overslept!" I tell her. Mom rolls over in her bed, and faces the wall. "Mom?" I ask her. No answer. It's one of her bad days. _Again_. Yesterday she was fine, chatting away with Prim on the porch until the moon was high in the sky. I bite my lip and put another blanket over her hunched form. "Please eat something." I whisper to her. She mumbles something in response, but I don't understand it.

I pull on my jeans, a t-shirt and pull on my hunting jacket. Hopping into the kitchen as I frantically pull on my boots, I find Prim slicing the loaf of bread at the table.

"Prim!" I say. "No time for food!"

"I'm hungry!" Prim says, shooting me a look. I braid my hair, and head out the front door. Prim follows close behind, shoving the bread into her mouth. She hands me a piece and I end up eating it all in one big mouthful of bread, fruit and nuts. Peeta made this bread.

_Peeta_.

Shaking my head, I swallow our hasty breakfast and walk behind Prim, braiding her hair as neatly as I can.

"Is Mom gone again?" Prim asks. My fingers still in her hair.

"Yeah, but she'll be back before you know it." I say, tying off the braid with a ribbon.

"I'm not stupid, Katniss," Prim says as we reach the school gates, our chests heaving. "I know when she'll be gone for a long time." She throws her arms around me and runs off.

"I'll see you…later." I whisper after her, but my words are swept away in the wind.

My cheeks burn as I fling myself into my classroom.

"Thanks for showing up, sweetheart." Haymitch says sarcastically from the front of the class.

"I over slept, sorry." I say hurriedly.

"Sit down." He says, rolling his eyes. I nod and scamper down the passage between the rows of desks. I pull my chair out, wincing as the legs scrape noisily against the floor tiles. Sitting down, I pull my braid over my shoulder and let out a breath.

"I swear, Haymitch seems to have a permanent supply of whatever's in _that_ flask."

"I know, he drinks it like its oxygen." I laugh, turning to face the person who just spoke to me. Peeta smiles back at me, his eyes sparkling, and his hair falling in messy waves over his forehead. "Oh shit, Peeta!" I exclaim, my eyes widening. I move away from him, my shoulder pressed up against the wall.

"Hey?" Peeta gives me an odd look. I stare at him like a rabbit caught in headlights. "What?" He asks, his brow furrowed.

"Nothing!" I hiss, looking away, a flush creeping up over my chest and neck.

"You over your hangover yet?" Peeta asks me.

"Yeah. You?" I nod. I'll keep my answers short and to the point.

"Thankfully. I'm not the best at handling my alcohol. I can't remember hardly anything from Friday night." Peeta chuckles, shooting me a smile. I laugh nervously.

"Funny, I can't either." I say- which isn't a complete lie.

"I did walk you home, didn't I?" Peeta asks.

My heart stops beating.

What? Peeta can't remember anything?

But that means that…

"Yeah, you did. I hope you made it back to yours okay." I force a smile.

"I got there just fine." Peeta grins.

"Oh, good. That's good." I mumble.

My mind has literally exploded. What does he mean;_ 'He can't remember anything?_' I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to drown out Haymitch and Effie arguing, and the whispering students around me.

Okay, so at least I know he's not just being an arrogant idiot and acting as if nothing happened. Surely he should feel something? If not guilt- or even desire- shouldn't he feel embarrassed? I know I feel embarrassed.

I can't even look at him.

Maybe he's just pretending to not remember anything. Maybe he can't believe that he slept with a Seam Brat like me, and is now ignoring the truth.

But what if he genuinely can't remember what happened between us?

"So, can you remember what happened on the way back to my house?" I ask him, trying to act as indifferent as possible.

"No…" Peeta trails off, his eyes narrowing. "Why?"

"No, don't worry about it." I brush his question off.

"Tell me!" Peeta whispers. "What happened?"

"You just laughed the entire way there…" I say quickly, telling him the first thing that pops into my head.

"Phew!" Peeta chuckles. "I was worried I did something wrong." He bumps me on the arm and I inch away from him.

Our conversation is interrupted when Effie claps her hands together, instructing the class to stand and follow her and Haymitch out of the corridor. Once we reach the school hall, Effie lines us all up by the wall. Haymitch leans by the wall, looking around the hall with a scowl that could match Katniss'.

"Miss, what are we doing in here?" Bron asks Effie.

"I saw you all at the Reaping Dinner," Effie begins, stalking up and down the hall, her heels clicking. "And, I'm quite frankly _horrified_ at your dancing skills," Effie looks up, narrowing her eyes. "So, today you will be learning how to dance _properly_, and no, I don't mean that horrible dancing you do at parties." She pulls her gloves off, finger by finger and Haymitch wheels a record player out into the centre of the hall.

"Oh shit." I breathe. Katniss' mouth drops open.

"I'm going to have you dancing like professionals by the Winter Ball, if it's the last thing I do!" Effie proclaims.

Effie's out to get me. I'm sure.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Why Effie? Why?

In all of the people who could have been drafted in to teach us, it had to be Effie Trinket, didn't it?

Katniss walks forward and I trail after her. Standing awkwardly beside her, I watch as half the year group reluctantly stands with their partners. Effie stands, watching us with purses lips. Haymitch straightens up and walks towards the brightly coloured woman, smirking at everyone he passes. He's enjoying this way too much.

"Come along, Haymitch!" Effie says. "You're going to help me."

"Nah, you can do it yourself." Haymitch grumbles.

"You do know how to dance, don't you?" Effie says. Haymitch nods. "Then come here and put your hand on my waist." Haymitch coughs and splutters, his eyes wide. Effie waits expectantly. A laugh echoes around the hall.

"You'll be the death of me." Haymitch says grumpily. He grudgingly walks forward.

"Now then, gentlemen, put one hand on your partner's waist, like so," She looks at Haymitch who places a hand on the beltline of her shimmering golden dress. I look up at Katniss. She grimaces, her cheeks red.

"Do you mind?" I ask her.

"No, go ahead." She says through gritted teeth. .

"Are you alright?" I ask her, placing a tender hand on her waist, my hand tingling, electricity shooting up my arm and into my chest.

"Yep, I'm great." She says.

"Then, gentlemen, you shall place your hand in your partners. Ladies, your hand needs to be on the shoulder of your partner." Effie instructs as Haymitch does as he's told. Katniss' hand is cold in mine, the hand on my shoulder light as a feather. She seems to know how to stand, angling her arm, her back straight.

"You dance?" I ask her. She looks down at her feet.

"My father taught me, before he died. Said that every woman should know how to dance." Katniss replies, a faint smile on her lips as she recalls a fond memory.

"Now, the steps are simple! Gentlemen lead. One, two, three. One two, three." Effie calls out, putting the stylus onto the record. A slow beat fills the room.

Effie leaves Haymitch and marches around the room, correcting various people, tapping at their arms and guiding them along.

"Very good," Effie congratulates Katniss and I, placing a hand on her chin as she inspects us. "Katniss, my dear, you're a natural."

"My Dad taught me." Katniss repeats.

"But I can see a problem." Effie says, her eyes narrowed, the feathery false lashes touching her cheekbones.

"You can?" I ask warily, glancing from Katniss to Effie.

"I can," Effie says, stepping confidently forward. "You're standing so far apart that it's making it difficult for you to dance properly. You need to step closer, close enough so that if you had a piece of paper between you, it wouldn't fall."

And with that Effie, pushes us together, until the belt around her hips is grazing the hem of my t-shirt. Katniss stiffens, biting her lip, and I blink rapidly.

Fuck my life.

"You two are just adorable!" Effie squeals, seemingly unaware of how uncomfortable we feel, clapping her hands together before tottering away, her perfectly coiffed coiffed hair bouncing.

"I'm sorry," I say. "Do you want me to move away?"

"It's fine." Katniss nods.

We dance in silence for the next few minutes. Katniss doesn't look up at me, but I find myself transfixed on her face. The feel of her hand in mine. The curve of her spine under my palm.

"Effie, they're kids. Put something they can really dance to on." Haymitch tells Effie.

"Haymitch, how do you expect them to learn the proper etiquette if they do not have the proper resources, i.e. music?"

"Loosen your corset and have a drink!" Haymitch advises, nudging her aside and pulling the record away and replacing it with another.

"Manners!" Effie exclaims, her lips pursed. Brushing the irritating woman aside, Haymitch positions the stylus and turns to face the students waiting for instruction.

A joyful melody fills the room and Katniss turns to the sound of a violin playing, a drum of some sort and a guitar.

"I know this song," She says, her eyes lighting up. "It's always played at celebrations in the Seam."

"So I'm assuming you know the steps?"

"Of course." Katniss laughs, pulling away and taking my hands. She spins us around, and after several minutes of stepping on her feet with red cheeks, I get the hang of the Seam folkdance. I spin Katniss around, nearly getting whipped in the face with her braid as she spins.

Laughter erupts from around the room and I look around. While the Merchants of the year stand there confused, watching as a mass of dark-haired people dance around the room, the steps familiarised in time.

"I wish I knew how to dance." I murmur. Katniss pauses, her chest rising and falling.

"Didn't your father or mother ever teach you?"

"No, my Dad has two left feet, and you know what my Mom's like."

"But is your mother a good dancer?" Katniss persists.

"I've only seen her dance once, and she's alright." I shrug my shoulders.

"Well, you needn't worry. Your dancing isn't that bad." Katniss grins.

Later on that evening, Rye catches me dancing in the kitchen, spinning in a circle as I cross the room.

"What are you doing?" He asks me, one eyebrow raised as he pulls on an apron.

"Nothing, I'm just in a good mood." I say.

"You danced with Everdeen, didn't you?" He says with a smirk. "Did Trinkie and Drunk force you?"

"Trinkie and Drunk?"

"Answer the question."

"Yeah, I danced with her." I say, sliding a tray of cookies into the ovens.

"You didn't stand on her feet too much did you?"

"Not really," I say. "She said I wasn't an awful dancer.

Rye steps forward, leaning close to me, his eyes shining mischievously..

"You didn't get a boner, did you?"

"No!" I exclaim, my cheeks warming. Rye gives me a look. "I didn't!"

"Sure, sure." Rye says, patting me on the shoulder.

"I think she would've noticed if I did." I say indignantly. Rye lets out a throaty laugh.

"Sure, little brother, sure." He grins. I realise what I've said.

"You know I didn't mean it like that." I try to explain, but Rye has already disappeared, starting his shift at the front of the shop.

"Rye being a dick?" Fen says, noting my peeved expression as he walks into the kitchen.

"Rye's always being a dick."


	8. Chapter 8: Discovery

**Yet again, a big thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited and/or reviewed this story! You're awesome! This is the chapter that really starts the drama; I look forward to your response ;)**

**Happy Reading! :D**

My Fault- Imagine Dragons

* * *

**-Katniss-**

It's been two weeks since… 'The incident'. Peeta has remained in the dark about what happened between us, and greets me with a cheerful smile everyday.

I, on the other hand, feel like the worst person in the world. I sit there, my stomach rolling, as Peeta chats to me. He talks about the bakery a lot, and about his Dad and brothers. Few words are spoken of his mother though, and when he does speak of her, he takes a reserved expression and a hushed voice. I think he still loves his mother, but what type of love he could hold for that bitch of a woman, I do not know.

For the past week, Peeta has been satisfied with my one-word responses to his questions, and during the lessons where Effie forces us to dance while Haymitch chuckles haughtily from the corner, I have to force myself not to squirm under his touch.

My skin feels like it's on fire when he touches me, as if his hands are burning through the material of my thicket jumper, through my shirt and burning away at my waist until it reaches my soul. Bewilderment shoots through me when I begin to feel something different. My mind plays back images of my night at the bakery. His eyes. His skin. _Him_. Something- I don't know what- in slowly burning deep inside me.

Yesterday, in Gym, I couldn't help but admire the youngest Mellark as he swung the bat to hit the foam ball that was flying his way. His shirt, a pass-me-down from his brothers, was a tad on the small size, and as it rode up revealing the 'v' shape leading… well... _down_… I couldn't help but blush.

Fighting against myself is time-consuming and upsetting. I feel conflicted. My body wants one thing, while my mind is consuming the thoughts of desire and turning them into flashes of my interactions in the past with Peeta.

Sometimes I find myself wondering what it would be like if Peeta knew the truth. How would he react? I feel that we've begun to build a friendship- something I struggle to do- and I don't want to ruin my chances. If I told Peeta, it could go two ways.

One option is that Peeta would be disgusted, and would either spread rumours about me or disregard me completely. It would make the whole situation between us very awkward, not to mention I would be embarrassed.

The other option (the one that I think would most likely happen) is that it would just cause our relationship to change completely. I doubt Peeta would be horrible about it; he's too much of a good guy.

The voice at the back of my head is urging me to get it all off my shoulders and confess, but I argue back, saying that I shouldn't make a fuss over nothing.

At breakfast, Prim noticed my stony silence and questioned me, wanting to know what was wrong and why I was looking troubled. I had shaken her concerns off with a shrug and a quick reply of: 'Nothing, Little Duck. I'm just thinking.'

Prim obviously wasn't satisfied with my answer, but said nothing else. She continued to study over her bowl of porridge, her blue eyes watching for anything that would give how I was feeling away. But she would've never guess my thoughts. She wouldn't understand my frustration.

I'm sitting in Haymitch's class with Madge. The girls and boys have been split up. The boys have been taken somewhere with Effie, and us girls have the pleasure of being taught by a drunken Haymitch Abernathy. The plan is that we'll swap at breaktime, and then come together again for the last lesson of the day for another dancing lesson, or as Effie likes to call it, 'Life Skills Lessons'.

"Katniss?" Madge says. I shake my head slightly and see my blonde friend waiting expectantly.

"Huh?" I ask.

"Haymitch." She says, pointing to the gruff man standing at the chalkboard.

"Oh, sorry miss," I say, blinking rapidly. "What was the question?"

"When you're ready, the question, sweetheart," Haymitch says, his blotchy eyes narrowed. "Was: How long is a woman typically pregnant for?"

"Nine months." I answer. He nods.

"Pay attention." He says. I nod.

Haymitch continues to talk, droning on about babies and how much it takes to look after them. I try and pay attention, ignoring the niggling sense of guilt mixed with confusion, a dollop of fear thrown in for good measure.

"I can't believe Haymitch is giving us lessons on contraception." Madge grimaces, looking away when Haymitch begins to draw on the chalkboard.

"I know." I say.

"I mean, come on!" Madge says, her eyes wide. "What the hell is that?" I look up at the board, but quickly glance away as Haymitch describes his drawing. The entire class edges backwards in their seat, looks ranging from amusement to horrified on their faces.

"Okay, so. Lets talk sex." Haymitch says, leaning on the desk and surveying the class.

"Jeez." Madge groans.

"I think a good question to ask is, have any of you had sex recently?" Haymitch asks the group of girls sitting in front of him. He bursts out laughing. "I'm kidding!" He cackles. A few pupils nervously chuckle along with him. Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Because, if you have, did you know that you could be pregnant?"

I freeze.

"There are forms of contraception on sale in this District, but it's very expensive. So, I would advise you to not to anything unless you realise what you could be getting yourself into," He coughs. "Children cost a lot, take up time, and should only be in the hands of people responsible enough to support them."

My eyes widen.

No. No, it can't be possible.

"Hey, Katniss, are feeling alright?" Madge asks me, placing a hand on my arm.

"Nah, yeah. I'm fine. I just feel ill." I whisper. Madge frowns.

"It takes two to tango dears. Don't make mistakes." Haymitch says finally. The bell rings and everyone runs for the door. I stand, my legs wobbling.

"You've gone as white as a sheet." Madge says, her blue eyes wide.

"I need to go home." I say, feeling the blood steadily drain from my face.

"I'll take you to the nurse." Madge says as we walk down the corridor.

"Please don't." I half-beg.

"But Katniss, you look awful."

"Thanks Madge." I say, clutching my stomach. I push past my concerned friend and outside into the playground. I lean against the wall, breathing in deep lungfuls of air.

I could be pregnant. With Peeta's child.

And he doesn't even know that he's had sex with me.

"Madge said you weren't feeling well," I look up at the voice. Peeta walks down the school steps and towards me. Mitch and Madge trail behind. "You alright?"

"I just feel sick, that's all." I say, avoiding his gaze. He walks closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. This time I can't control myself- I flinch and almost fall in my haste to get away. Peeta pulls back, hurt decorating his face.

"When did you last eat?" Madge asks me.

"Err… last night." I say, suddenly feeling light-headed. I clutch at the brick wall behind me.

"I've got food in my bag," Peeta says. "You can have it."

His kindness kills me.

"No, Peeta. It's not hunger. I can go for days without eating. I'm fine." I say.

_Calm the fuck down! _I think harshly to myself.

I shake my head. I might not even be pregnant. Malnutrition causes my menstrual cycle to stop all the time. I'm simply too weak. My body needs the energy for more important things. But hunting has been successful lately. The summer wasn't as stifling as it was last year, and we managed to eat something that would fill our stomachs even a little bit every single day.

And now that it's autumn, the hauls I bring in are so big that I have to walk all over District 12 to be able store the rest at home. We've been eating better than some of the Merchants when it comes to fresh meat.

So there is still a possibility that I'm with child.

I look up at unaware, carefree Peeta. He smiles worriedly at me, his eyes flitting from my face to Madge and Mitch.

"Tell Effie I've gone home." I say, pushing myself upright and hurrying away.

"Katniss!" Peeta says, running after me.

"Please, Peeta. I don't need anything else from you," I say, holding out a hand to stop him. "Just leave me alone, please."

"But Katniss!" Peeta says. I turn and flee before I can hear what he has to say, leaving Peeta behind with the face of a kicked puppy.

* * *

My feet pound against the dry dusty ground as I race back home. Thankfully, Mom isn't anywhere to be found. I screech through the front door, fling my bag at the wall, and run into the kitchen. The wooden dresser pushed against the wall normally has Mom's medicinal bag sitting on the top, but it's gone. I steady my breathing. I need to find Mom's medical book. It contains information that right now, I need.

"Where are, you where are you?" I whisper to myself, rummaging through the drawers. They're mostly empty and useless. I run a hand over my face.

_The apothecary. _

If I went to the apothecary, I could trade with the owner and buy a test. But what can I trade? All the animals that I've caught have been stored away. Tampering with them could make them go bad. I run into the bedroom I share with Prim and Mom and pull the jar hidden under my bed.

Our emergency money jar. This money is only to be used in the worst possible situations. It's been used twice before. In the bitter months after Dad died, and about two years ago when we were practically walking skeletons, the winter was so cruel. We put all the spare change we have into this jar. I intend to use it for Prim so she can have what she needs. I yank the lid off and tip the jar upside down, emptying the array of dull coins onto the bed. Frantically counting them, I total up the coins.

I have just enough to buy one single test.

_Just_ enough.

How will I explain to Mom and Prim when they find that the money is gone? I guess I'll have to worry about that later. Right now, I need to confirm what I'm dreading. I tip the coins into a small pouch and stand in front of my father's dusty old shaving mirror. My eyes find their way down, and I place a hand on my stomach. I can't be pregnant at sixteen. I just can't. It's well known in District 12 that you don't produce another mouth to feed unless your family can feed itself. And now I've done the exact opposite.

I adjust my jacket and hold my head high as I walk back through the Seam and down the winding back streets of the Merchant part of town. I feel like all eyes on me as I creep along to the front door of the apothecary. I've only been here once before when Dad took me here to get an expensive medicine for Mom when she was pregnant with Prim. Our visit didn't go smoothly. Mom's parents- my Grandfather and Grandmother, own the apothecary and didn't… agree… with their daughter's decision to marry someone from the Seam.

Grandfather and Grandmother died a few years ago and left their shop to an aging Merchant. I have no idea why they didn't leave it to a nephew of niece. But their reasons for not pass it down to their only daughter were crystal clear.

I peer around the street; checking for prying eyes, before pushing open the door of the apothecary. The bell hanging above the door tinkles cheerfully as I enter the shop, but it causes me to wince, the sound seeming louder than it should.

"Afternoon." The shop owner greets me, looking up from the desk to the left of the door.

"Hello." I half-whisper, barely lifting my head.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" She questions, lifting an eyebrow.

"I felt ill. They said I could leave." I say quickly, darting behind a shelf before she can respond.

Scouring the shelves for a pregnancy test, I run my finger over the price tags and tubes and tubs.

'_Burn ointment; medicinal alcohol; beauty powder.' _I read out breathlessly. With shaking hands, I pick out a small, rectangular box. The words 'Capitol-Approved Pregnancy Test' stand out in thick dark blue letters against the white box. The Capitol symbol is printed beside the words. It looks too formal- too medical. Not at all something that would normally bring joy to a person's life.

I clutch the cardboard box tightly in my fist, willing myself to keep a straight face as I stop at the end of the shop. There are three aisles in the building. The one I'm standing at is directly in front of the shop owner's desk. She looks over the top of her steel-rimmed glasses at me, raising her eyebrows.

"Are you buying something, dear?" She asks me. Her eyes flit from my face to my hand. I bite my lip.

I can do this. I have to do this.

Sure, I could wait for a few months, and see if my stomach swelled. But by then it could be too late. At least by doing this, I will know for sure. I will be able to plan for longer. I will be able to save Peeta from the burden of having a bastard child with someone like me.

"Miss?" The lady asks again. I look up at her and step forward. The trip to the counter seems like the longest journey I've ever, but eventually I reach my destination.

"Can you please… not tell anyone about this?" I ask her. She frowns. "Please. Just… keep it to yourself. I don't want to cause any unnecessary drama if… if I am." I place the box onto the table and look up.

"That'll be twenty gold, and three silvers." The woman says.

"So you'll say nothing?" I query.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She replies, her lips turning up in a small, sympathetic smile. Her blue eyes are cold though.

"Thank you." I whisper, pulling out the pouch and placing it in her waiting palm. Silence fills the room as she counts the coins and locks them into the cash register.

"Have a nice day." She says. I nod in thanks and take the test, slipping it into the pocket of my jacket. The walk out of the shop is tense. I can feel the Merchant's eyes on me the entire way, and can't shake the feeling away, even when I'm hotfooting it down the cobbled street and onto the dusty trail of the Seam.

* * *

Once home, I lock myself in the bathroom and unpack the box. Inside is a plastic stick with a folded-up piece of paper. Instructions. I scan through the printed text, searching through the paragraphs that waffle on about Capitol Industries until I reach the three steps that will tell me whether I'm pregnant or not.

All I have to do is pee on the stick and wait for three minutes.

Is that it?

I do my business and place the stick on the edge of the sink, watching it intently as I perch unsteadily on the toilet seat. My knees bounce in anxiousness as I wait, counting down the longest three minutes of my life. I can see the cherry wood clock sitting on the mantelpiece ticking away. The more I stare at it, the slower the hands move. But finally, the three minutes are up.

I pick up the stick and look down, my knuckles gripping the plastic so hard my knuckles are white. Taking a deep breath, my eyes travel up the stick and onto the small grey screen.

A small pink plus sign stares back up at me and I collapse back against the wall, my hand over my mouth.

* * *

**-Peeta- **

I chew at the skin on my finger.

"She's never gone home before because she wasn't feeling well," Madge tells me, her blue eyes wide as she walks with Mitch and I down the hallway to my next lesson. "And she wasn't ill before Haymitch's lesson."

"She looked… well… awful when I saw her in the playground." Mitch wrinkles his nose, his hand gripping Madge's.

"She flinched away from me when I put my hand on her shoulder." I whisper. Madge squeezes my arm.

"You haven't done anything." She tells me.

"But before she was fine." I say as we walk into the hall.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about this, Peeta." Mitch says. I shrug, but I can't help but worry.

I can't get the look of Katniss' face out of my mind. She looked so frightened, so shocked. So disbelieving. Her eyes were wide, so grey as they stared at the ground. Her skin- usual tanned from spending hours in the sun- turned deathly white.

But what hurt me the most was how she responded to me simply trying to comfort her. Her panic when she ran off. I can't help but think that I've done something to hurt her. I rack my brains, desperately searching through all the pieces of information I can bring up for something that could offer any hints to Katniss' behaviour. I come up with nothing but a headache.

All through Haymitch's uncomfortable- and crudely graphic-lesson, I'm stuck in thought. Mitch says nothing, but I can tell he's worried about me. He knows of my… love…. for the Everdeen girl, and now he finally understands.

"I asked Madge out the other day." He confesses, pretending to act blasé as his eyes flicker from the chalkboard and his hands. His fingers twist together. He always does this when he's talking about something important to him.

"And?" I say, bumping him on the shoulder with my fist.

"She said yes." He grins, looking up at me.

"And her father?" I ask. Mitch looks away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as he tries to pull together an answer. "Ah, forbidden love." I muse. Mitch rolls his eyes.

"So now I know how you feel when you say you're worried about Katniss," My friend says softly. I look down. "I'm sure she's fine. She's been through worse than a stomach bug."

I shrug, trying to ignore all thoughts of Katniss and focus on the lesson but to no avail. Dozens of scenarios whiz through my mind as Haymitch goes red in the face with laughter, clutching at the desk so he doesn't fall over.

At lunch, I sit at my usual table and Madge joins us so she doesn't have to sit by herself. Mitch lays his arm over he shoulders and she leans against him as they eat, and I feel a pang of jealousy. All around me are happy couples. I have nothing of that kind of love. The slagheap is something I've considered on the days when I feel that in need to find my release somehow. Seeing people stumbling away from the infamous place, hearing the tales of passion. But I think I would guilty afterwards. Even if it was just a meaningless kiss on both parties views.

I sit at the side of the room, tapping my foot to the beat of the music as I watch the other students dancing and spend my time thinking. By the time the bell rings to signal the end of the day, I've got my plan down to the very last minute, and I race down the corridors and burst into the bright sunshine bathing the school yard in an Autumn glow.

"You waiting for Katniss?" I ask Prim, spotting her standing under the tree she always stands under to wait for her big sister.

"Yeah," She nods, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Have you seen her?"

"Err… no." I say.

"I thought she was your Baby Games partner." Prim frowns.

"She is-" I begin, only to be cut off by a tongue just as sharp as Katniss'.

"Then surely you should know?"

"I haven't seen her for ages. She went home ill." I say. Prim's lips turn downwards at my news.

"Did she say anything?"

"Not really- she kind of ran out of here like her butt was on fire," I say with a rueful grin. Prim giggles. "I can walk you home if you want?"

"Nah, I'll walk with the Hawthornes. Gale's going to the candy shop after school with his brothers, so hopefully I'll be able to scrimp something off them." Katniss' sister smiles widely, twirling the end of one of her braid in-between her thumb and index finger. Just like Katniss. I blink. I need to stop comparing the Everdeen sisters.

"Good luck." I say. Prim waves to me as she spies the Hawthornes walking out of the school gates. I wait until they've rounded the corner before walking to the Seam.

* * *

Mom always said that the Seam was a place for rats and scoundrels alike, but I think the place has some sort of charm to it. Ignore the falling-down houses and often starving inhabitants, and you get a place filled with people who value family and friends rather than anything else. I admire these people.

Years of finding out anything I can about Katniss have paid off and I find her house with ease. Standing outside the building, I run a hand through my hair and adjust my shirt before walking up onto the creaky porch steps to knock on the door.

My knuckles are centimetres from the wooden entranceway when I hear it. The sound of agonized sobs radiate through the thin walls and I freeze, listening for a while longer, trying to identify the owner of these pained cries.

Katniss!

I'm surprised that I didn't recognize her wails sooner. I can still hear her distraught sobs when her father did not come up from the ground in that elevator the day the mine collapsed.

Timidly I knock on the door. The crying ceases, reduced to gasping sniffs.

"Who is it?" Katniss' wobbly voice calls out. My heart surges.

"It's me." I reply.

"Go home Peeta!" Katniss hiccoughs.

"Are you okay?" I ask her, listening carefully as she gasps for breath. "You looked really ill this morning, I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine… just, please. Go away." Katniss sobs. I bite my lip. I can't leave her. What if something is really wrong and I did nothing?

"Katniss, you're obviously not alright. I'm coming in." I tell her, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

My eyes widen as I'm greeted by a snotty, shaking Katniss with bloodshot eyes.

"What's happened?" I ask her, my eyebrows knitting together.

"N… nothing. Go h...home Peeta." She says, watching me with wary eyes.

"You've been crying," I say, stepping closer. "I only want to help you." I say. Katniss shuffles backwards, up against the wall.

"I don't need your help!" She exclaims. "Just… just go away. Please, Peeta. You'll help me if you go away." I swallow. I've never seen Katniss like this except for when her father died. She's usually so strong- nothing fazes her, let alone reduces her to a quivering, snivelling mess.

"What are hiding behind your back?" I ask. Katniss stiffens.

"Nothing." She whispers.

"Hold your hands out then." I say.

"You can't make me."

"You bet?" Katniss' eyes flicker from me, to the door, and back to me. She squeaks and darts to the door, ducking out of my way and flinging the door open, only to collide with a very surprised Prim.

"Prim!" Katniss exclaims, shoving whatever she had in her hand into the pocket of her Dad's hunting jacket and zipping it up. I scowl.

"Katniss?" Prim says, flabbergasted at her sister's exit from the house.

"Gale!" Katniss says.

"Peeta?" Gale says.

"Hi?" I add.

"Why are you crying?" Prim asks, gripping her sister's arms as if to still her.

"No reason."

"So you're telling me that you cry- apparently hysterically- all the time?" Gale asks sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Katniss shrugs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

"What's wrong?" Prim persists. "And why is Peeta here?"

"I came over to see if she was okay. She said she felt ill this morning." I explain.

"But that doesn't explain why she's crying," Gale frowns. Prim stares up at me, her eyes accusing. Gale's brothers (Rory and Vick?) stand nearby, watching the situation unfold right in front of them. "What did you do to her?" Gale questions.

"Me?" I splutter, my arms sticking out in the air. "I don't think I've done anything!"

"This isn't Peeta's fault." Katniss says, motioning to her face.

"It's a bit suspicious, don't you think?" The eldest Hawthorne sneers. "A townie like you, Katniss crying."

"A townie like me?" I ask. "What exactly are you implying?"

"It's just that I know what Merchants are like. They go around wearing their fancy clothes and thinking that just because they have more money than us Seam folk, you can go around doing what you want."

"You obviously haven't met many Merchants, then. Have you?" I say.

"I'm gonna kick you onto your sorry arse if you don't explain what's happened here." Gale threatens. I roll my eyes.

I don't know what Gale Hawthorne has against Merchants. I mean, yeah, he has a right to be pissed off that we have more money, but that's just the way things have worked out. I can't help it. If I could solve all the problems in our world with the press of a button, I would.

"That's exactly the problem. I don't know what's happening!" I say. "I came here to see if Katniss was alright because she said she wasn't feeling too good. And then I get here and she's crying."

"Yeah right." Gale says.

"Believe whatever you want. I'm not in the wrong here. At least I don't think I am."

"Fuck off." Gale hisses.

"Gale, don't cause trouble." Katniss mumbles from beside Prim. She glances at me, but looks away quickly.

"Go home, townie." Gale growls.

"Gladly." I snap, stalking away, my blood boiling, my hands curled into tight fists at my sides.

Well that went well, didn't it? I've angered a Hawthorne, upset an Everdeen and confused everyone in between.


	9. Chapter 9: Decisions

**WOW. Almost 60 reviews! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and/or favourited my story. Your kind words make me smile!**

**Now, this chapter includes a subject some people may be uncomfortable with. Mentions of abortion. But, I implore, do continue reading as it isn't anything graphic etc.**

**Thank you for understanding, enjoy reading!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Peeta disappears, leaving me standing with the Hawthorne brothers and Prim.

"Come on, Prim. Lets go." I say softly, pushing my blonde-haired sister up the porch steps.

"Hey, Catnip," Gale calls. "Aren't you gonna explain anything?"

"No." My reply is short, leaving Gale with probably more questions than he started of with.

"I'll come round later on. You're gonna have to tell me sometime."

I don't answer my friend, and shut the front door with a finalising bang. But he's right. I'm going to have to tell him. Everyone will know. Everyone will know that I'm the Seam scum-turned-slut; the girl who got pregnant at sixteen.

My breathing is shaky as I stand before my sister.

"Please, Katniss. Tell me what's wrong." She pleads.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just a bit emotional at the moment." I whisper, puling my jacket around my stomach. _My stomach. _I look down, my heat thudding erratically. There is a baby inside me. Half of me, half of Peeta. God knows how he'd feel if he knew he was to be father. Maybe it's a good thing that he doesn't know.

I keep replaying a selection of scenarios over and over in my head. In one, Peeta finally remembers the night we shared, and is disgusted. I can see myself walking- no, _waddling_- down the streets, my stomach swollen grotesquely. The stares of people burn into me, etching the words 'slut' and 'brat' and 'whore' onto my forehead, a permanent reminder of what I am.

The other scenario is something I never, ever want to happen. Gale is involved, and takes on the role of father to the child growing in my stomach. Contrary to the fact that these are simply illusions conjured up in my mind, a smidgen of truth remains in this second situation. We've been best friends for years. Gale is _mine_. _I__am his_**. **_Anything else_ is unthinkable. Most people would be right to only think that us getting married and starting a family is the next step in our relationship.

But those who truly know me know that this is not the case. I never want to get married. I never wanted children. And look how well that worked out for me…

"I know it isn't your time of the month, either," Prim says. She narrows her eyes. "So something must be up." I stand their, staring at my little sister.

She's going to be an Aunt. I fight back tears.

"I was thinking about Dad and got sad." I mumble. Prim will believe this. She knows that the pain of his death is still as fresh and sharp as a shard of glass in my heart.

"Oh Katniss. I'm sorry," Prim says, walking forward and wrapping her bony arms around my waist. "I didn't think. Gale probably didn't know either."

"None of you know." I murmur.

"Did Peeta know?" Prim asks me. I freeze. Prim looks up at me, her eyes soft.

"No, he didn't."

"Did you tell him?"

"I haven't and I'm not going to," I say. "He doesn't need to worry about anything else." Prim gives me one final squeeze.

"You should go and have a nap, Katniss. You look tired." Prim advises, ever the apothecary's daughter. I nod in defeat and escape into the bedroom, locking the door tightly behind me before collapsing onto the lumpy mattress and letting all my feelings out.

Prim can undoubtedly hear my broken sobs, but not once does she knock on the door and ask if she can help. I'm grateful for it. Fishing the small test out of my jacket pocket, I stare at it for what seem hours, unblinking. The whispering from my mother and Prim when Mom comes back from her call out interrupts my daze.

Mom will be so disappointed. Granted, I've been disappointed- angry even- with her for practically abandoning us when Dad died.

"_She's upset about Dad." Prim explains softly. "You should've seen her. Peeta was here and he didn't know why she upset. But she's usually so unfazed."_

"_Peeta? As in, Mellark?" Mom asks. _

"_Well, yeah."_

"_Why was he here?"_

"_He said that he wanted to see if Katniss was alright."_

There's silence afterwards and I stare at the ceiling, watching a small spider dance over the leaky boards. My eyes are red raw from crying, my throat is dry. But instead of feeling like I can't cry any more, I feel like more tears are building up, waiting for the smallest of things to come along and upset me so more tears can fall.

I think of my father, the scent of him long gone from his jacket, and try to imagine what he would do. He'd be disappointed at first, demand to know why I'm wasting my teenage years. I'd explain that it was a drunken mistake. He'd simply shake his head in betrayal and walk away.

Warm, salty tears slide down my cheeks again, and I bury my face in the pillow.

Finally calming myself, I sit up and wipe my eyes and snotty nose.

I'm pregnant. I still can't get my head around the thought. In a few months time, my stomach will swell and everyone will know. To makes matters worse, my small frame will exaggerate my pregnant tummy. Prim will know. Mom will know. Gale and his family will know. Everyone will know.

Of course people will assume that the child is Gale's. Gale, of course will say it's his, but will bombard me with questions that I'll never answer.

_Unless, _I think to myself. _I get rid of it._

I've heard the tales of young woman who have fallen pregnant and brewed remedies to stop the process. Few have visited the clinic downtown to have an abortion by a proper professional. Pennyroyal is often used. It's normally taken to get rid of an unwanted pregnancy- but the results are normally fatal. Pennyroyal is highly toxic. If not brewed correctly, it will lead to certain death. Only the people skilled in the area of medicine know how to correctly make this potion up.

Just my luck being the daughter of the only local apothecary.

My brain hurts. If I could get my hands on some of the amber liquid, I could solve this problem.

I would never have a child.

Gale would never have to look after an infant that was not his own.

Everyone's lives would go on as normal.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I take a deep breath, climb off the bed, and unlock the door. Creaking it open just a crack, I poke my head out and listen. I can hear Prim playing with Buttercup outside. The sound of Mom's knitting needles click from the living room.

"Mom?" I call. The clicking stops. "Mom?" I call again, a little louder.

"Katniss?" Mom replies.

"Can you please come here?" I ask timidly.

The sound of the rocking chair Dad built for Mom creaking alerts me that my mother is coming towards me. Her eyes wide, she steps over the threshold, her mouth opening in confusion when I hastily slam the door and slide the lock shut.

"Darling, what are you doin-"

"I need your help." I interrupt her, grasping her arm and pulling her down so she sits on the end of the bed.

"Well, what is it?" Mom asks. For once, my mother looks genuinely concerned as she stares up at me, brow knitted together.

Suddenly I feel like I'm going to be sick. I bite my lip and take several deep breaths, trying to convince myself that I can do this. I can tell my mother. I need to do this so I can save my life _and _Peeta's.

"I think I'm… I know I'm…" I swallow, pacing up and down, my braid thumping against my back. I can do this. I have to do this. "I'm pregnant." I whisper.

"W-what?" Mom stutters, her mouth hanging open.

"It was a one time thing and I-I'm sorry. I know I should've been careful, a-and that this will ruin our lives b-but I just don't know what to d-do and…" I blurt out, tears overflowing onto my cheeks, my hands trembling.

"Oh, Katniss, my dear." Mom says, standing and pulling me to her, rubbing her hand over my back in a soothing gesture.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I wail, gripping at my mother's waist like a small child who was scared of a thunderstorm. "I wasn't thinking straight. And now I don't know what to do!"

"Shush… shush child." Mom says in a calming tone. She lets me cry, the front of her blouse getting damper by the minute. It's a full ten minutes before I can calm down enough to attempt to slow my breathing. Fishing the pregnancy test I bought from the apothecary out of my jacket, I hand it to my mother. She examines it, the frown on her face deepening when she sees the pink plus sign.

"Where you did you get this from?" She asks quietly.

"I used the money from the emergency jar to buy it from the apothecary." I reply. Mom puts a finger under my chin, bringing my face up so I have to meet her gaze.

"When did you find out?"

"Today." I tremble.

"Do you know when this child was conceived?" Mom continues, her manner professional like the doctor she truly is.

I squirm under my mother's gaze, pulling away with red cheeks.

"The night of the party at the Whester's house," I say. "I was drunk."

Mom purses her lips.

"So he took advantage of you?"

"No! No. He was as drunk as I was." I stammer. Peeta deserves to have his integrity saved, as if it could make anything any better. I look up at Mom. She's staring down at me with narrowed eyes.

"Is there something you aren't telling me?" She asks me. I raise my eyebrows. "Is Gale the father?"

"Wha- No!" I splutter. "No, we're just friends!"

"Who is the father then?"

"I don't want to tell you." I say, twisting my fingers together.

"What did he say?" Mom continues, settling down onto the bed next to me.

"What?"

"You haven't told the Dad, have you?" Mom says, pulling at the frayed edge of the blanket we're sitting on. I shake my head. "You have to tell him, Katniss."

"No! I don't! This is my body. My baby. He never has to know." I exclaim, fresh tears beginning to form.

"Katniss!" Mom hisses. "Listen to me," I duck my head. "I know that you may want to deal with this by yourself, but you cannot possibly do that. This boy- this _man_- is as responsible for this child as you are. You must tell him."

"Why? It'll just ruin his life." I say, thinking of Peeta and the way his mother treats him.

"It's as much his child as yours." Mom says.

"And that's why I need your help," I whisper. "I need you to help me get rid of it." Mom's eyes widen.

"Katniss… No. I can't. You… you're my own daughter-"

"So you have even more of a reason to help." I state. Mom stays silent. I look down at my knees.

"Please, sleep on this. Think very carefully. This is a life. Another human being inside you. Half of you. Half of him."

_Half of him._

I choke back the urge to cry again and squeeze my eyes shut. As much as I want to ignore the fact, my mother is right. The thing… inside of me is also Peeta. Peeta, who has never been horrible to me. He's always been kind.

So putting him through something like becoming a father at the tender age of sixteen would ruin everything.

"No. I've made my decision." I say firmly. "I know Pennyroyal is used. And that you're the only one who can make it properly." Mom takes a deep breath.

"Katniss… please, don't."

"It's this or I'll do it myself." I threaten.

"When your father died, I was pregnant too- just like Hazelle. I was only a couple of months or so along, and the stress of the mine collapsing, the death of your Dad, I had a miscarriage." Mom confesses, her eyes locked on a place behind my head, her mind in a difference time.

"If you're telling me this to make me feel guilty-"

"I just want you to know that I felt guilty- that it was my fault that I lost the child. Your father never knew," Mom shakes her head, looking back at me. "Damn it, I still feel guilty to this very day, but not just because I lost the child, but because I never told the father. And then, it was too late."

"Mom…" I protest.

"So please. Think about this. You will do more harm than good if you go through with this."

"I'm doing it. Just please brew the Pennyroyal so I can get this over with."

Silently, Mom stands and leaves the room.

"What did you say to her?" Prim exclaims, bursting into the room, her braids flying." I came inside from playing with Buttercup and Lady and Mom rushed past me looking like she'd seen a ghost."

"We were just talking about Dad." I mumble.

"Why did she rush past?"

"I don't know." Prim frowns.

"You've been crying." She observes.

"I'm fine." I snap. Prim disappears. I fall back against the bed.

Prim has been in bed for two hours when Mom walks up to the kitchen table and places a small glass vial in front of me. I bring my head up from my arms and watch as my mother sits down in front of me, folding her hands over her lap, her back straight and rigid against the back of the chair.

"You need to take it all, and then stay off school for the next week or so." She says simply. I take the vial.

"Thank you." I reply, standing and smoothing down my trousers.

"Will you ever tell him?" She asks me quietly.

"No."

"Will you ever tell anyone?"

"Probably not." I finalise.

"But you only found out today. Give it some time. I beg of you." Mom persists as I turn away.

"Atonement through your own daughter is not what you should do." I reply, before walking away and locking myself in the bathroom.

Placing the small bottle of amber liquid on the edge of the sink, I stand in front of the cracked mirror and stare at myself.

This girl- my reflection- is not the Katniss Everdeen I have known all my life. This Katniss Everdeen is a woman who is simply trying to stop bad things from happening by simply smoothing things over and pretending they never happened.

This is not the real Katniss Everdeen; the sixteen-year-old who has lived in District 12 all her life.

Taking the bottle, I pull the cork out and close my eyes.

I can do this.

As I bring the rim of the bottle closer to my lips, I can smell the minty scent of the liquid contained in the moulded glass.

Mint. It smells like the icing the Mellark bakery would have decorating the cakes and cookies. The bakery reminds me of Peeta. A gut wrenching fear bubbles through me. I think of Peeta. Where is he now? What is he doing? What is he thinking?

I can imagine him in the bakery kitchen, rolling out dough, preparing icing, finishing up for the day. His kind smile. His eyes bluer than any of the Merchant eyes I've ever seen. His smile so kind. He must have a caring heart. He takes after his father. I wonder what part of his mother he has inside of him.

I bring the bottle to my lips, my blood pounding in my ears.

No.

I can't do this.

I throw the bottle away as if it's on fire, watching the glass smash and the precious Pennyroyal dribble down the plughole.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

My hands remain clenched in tight fists all the way home. I can't stand the eldest Hawthorne sometimes. The way he looks at his beloved 'Catnip' makes me sick. He looks at her like he owns her- that no one else can touch her, or think about her, or even look at her. Sure, it could be love, but I doubt she could ever feel the same way. I shake my head, my hair falling into my eyes. I need a haircut.

Back at the bakery, I'm glad that Mom isn't home.

"You look troubled, son." Dad says as I stomp into the kitchen.

"It's nothing, just getting pissed off."

"Heard Miss Everdeen felt ill today. Is she alright?" My father continues, pulling a tray of cookies from an oven as he speaks.

"I went to see her and she was crying and then Hawthorne came over and went all high and mighty." I spit out.

"I'm sure whatever has happened is nothing to worry about," Dad smiles. I nod, running a hand through my hair. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go out on the punch bag," I mutter. "I need to get my anger out on something another than Hawthorne's face."

I climb the stairs and change into faded black sweatpants and a grey tank, before pulling my tape from the top drawer of my wardrobe. Although my brothers and I are kind of famed throughout 12 for wrestling, we are also keen boxers. Mom thinks that boxing is common, but when we told her that boxing would help when we were wrestling, she was sold. Now the bag hangs outside from a hook driven into the solid brick wall. We cover it with a waterproof bag when it's not in use, but it's been patched up so many times that there is more duct tape than leather.

Winding the yellowing tape around my wrist, round my thumb, over my knuckles and between my fingers on both hands, I flex my fingers and roll my neck and shoulders as I step outside into the cold autumn air. My bare skin prickles, but I know that soon enough I will be sweating- there's no need for a hoodie.

Yanking the cover off the punch bag, I bring my fists up to my face, place one foot in front of the other and swing my arm around to hit the bag. It makes a satisfying 'thunk' sound and I feel a grin on my lips.

If only this was Hawthorne and not a bag filled with sand.

A sweat breaks out on my forehead pretty quickly, but I keep punching the bag, my chest rising and falling, my jaw locked.

"And who are you imagining that to be?" A high-pitched voice shrills from behind me. I throw one last hit and catch the bag as it flies through the air. Peering into the darkness of the evening, I spy Valerie Thread (the daughter of the tailor) leaning against the pigpen, biting her bottom lip, the red lipstick she's thickly applied on her front teeth. _Nice_.

"W-what?" I ask, my breathing laboured.

"You're attacking that bag as if it's your mortal enemy," Valerie explains, stepping closer and smiling.

"Maybe not my mortal enemy, but an enemy of sorts, yeah." I grin.

"Bad day?"

"You could say that." I shrug. Valerie walks closer, drawing shapes in the dirt with the toe of her shoe.

"Peeta?"

"Yeah?" I say, unravelling the tape.

"You know that I'm always here. You can come to me if you're feeling stressed… or upset… or angry." She looks up at me. I frown.

"Oh… err, thanks?" I offer. Valerie giggles, and steps forward, practically cornering me in between the wall of the bakery and the punch bag.

"Because I know that I can rely on you," The blonde girl continues. "And that being stuck with that Seam girl all the time must be really frustrating."

"Who? Katniss?" I stammer, feeling uncomfortable as Valerie places a hand on my chest. "She's cool. I like her." I say.

"Sure. Sure you do, baker boy," She murmurs, smoothing down my hair. "But I know what you'd like even better."

"Valerie, I really don't think-"

"Shh… Don't say anything." Valeria soothes.

"I'm not-"

My words are cut off when Valerie presses her lips to mine, smothering my protests. Her fingers crawl under my shirt and over my abdomen, icy cold against my heated skin. I flounder, my hands hovering in mid-air, unsure of what I should do.

"Stop, Valerie. Stop." I say, finally pushing the girl away. She stumbles, but regains her balance and fluffs her hair up, her bright red lips stretched over her teeth in a wide smile.

"You loved it." She smirks.

"No, I… I don't want this."

"To hell to want you think you want. I know what you want." She replies, stepping forward again. I step out of the way, my hands out in front of me.

"It was nice seeing you. Uh- bye." I say hurriedly, shutting the door and leaving the tailor girl out in the dark back street.

"Tryin' to cop a feel, ay?" Rye cackles.

"She launched herself at me. I wasn't trying to do anything." I stutter.

"Well, whatever you were trying to do, little brother, I'd wipe that lipstick off your face before Mom comes down and sees." I blink, running to the shiny toaster and scrubbing at my face as Rye laughs at me.

"She's dangerous, that one. I heard her older sister is a slut, and that she isn't any better."

"Thanks for the heads up." I mutter, satisfied that all of Valerie's lipstick has been wiped away.

"Anytime." Rye grins. I roll my eyes and head out to the shop front, helping my Fen run the bakery as the last of the evening stragglers buy various products before heading outside into the cold wind. I'm sweeping the tiled floor when the bell above the door jingles and Denny Small strides in, clunking noisily to the counter and spread mud everywhere with each step. I scowl at him.

"You couldn't have wiped your feet before you came in here?" Fen asks, noticing my disgruntled expression.

"Mom needs bread." Denny demands, completely ignoring my older brother's question.

"He asked you a question." I say, leaning against the broom. He turns to me, glares and folds his arms over his chest in an effort to make himself seem more threatening.

"And I didn't answer it."

"We don't serve conceited people," I continue. Denny's upper lip curls. "Oh, sorry," I say, feigning sympathy. "You don't know what conceited people means, do you?"

"I do."

"You don't. It means arrogant, big-headed, though I think the word that I should have used was _stupid_."

Denny flies across the room with amazing agility, pinning me up against the wall by the collar of my shirt.

"Call me stupid again, Mellark. I dare you." He growls, Fen steps forward.

"Stupid." I say defiantly.

"Why you little-" Denny sneers, a vein in his forehead sticking out. "You think that just because you can pick up girls whenever you want you can call me stupid?" He hisses.

Fen pulls Denny away before he can react, pushing him back with a shove to the chest.

"Everdeen is a load of shit. Fucking her won't give you a reputation." Denny snarls.

"Fucking Ever- What?" I ask, confused as to why Denny has bought this up.

"Get out, now." Fen commands, opening the door and pushing Denny into the street. He shuts the door and swings the 'open' sign round to 'closed'.

"Jesus, Peet. What's up with you?" He asks. I straighten my collar.

"I dunno. He just gets to me." I shrug, surprised at my own reaction.

"And what's he talkin' about? You and Everdeen?"

"I don't know," I say, my jaw locked. Fen narrows his eyes. "Honestly, I don't know. I haven't done anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I reply. "I mean, she did kiss me at Bron's party, but that was only as a dare."

Fen raises an eyebrow. "So why is he talkin' about you picking up girls? You aren't getting yourself into any trouble are you?"

"I haven't been doing anything," I say. "I'm as confused as you are."

* * *

I'm in my bedroom sketching, my back against the headboard when there's a soft knock at my bedroom door.

"Peeta?" A soft voice calls out. I frown. Mom? Why would Mom be knocking at my door? She never knocks, she just barges in.

"Yeah?" I reply, pushing my pad and pencils away and swinging my legs over the edge of my mattress.

"It's me." The voice says. I walk to the door and pull it open, only to find Katniss standing outside.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, pulling her into my room and looking up and down the corridor. "How did you even get in?"

"It isn't that hard to just sneak past your family." Katniss smirks.

"Okay… but what are you doing here?" I ask.

"I can't stop thinking about the other night." Katniss says, biting her lip and smiling.

"The, uh- the other night?" I stutter.

"And now, I've come back for more." Katniss grins playfully, and then presses her lips to mine, pushing me back against the door.

"Wait, no," I say, pushing her away, my hands on her shoulders. "Katniss. What are you doing?"

"I'm returning the favour." Katniss whispers, moving forward again.

Inside, my mind is screaming at me, telling me to stop talking and start kissing. The girl of my dreams is in my bedroom, pushing me up against the wall, and I'm completely ignoring her.

"What are you talking about?" I ask her, holding her back.

"Oh, Peeta. Don't act all innocent with me. I know what you're like." Katniss breathes. She places her hands on my cheeks, pulling me towards her. I comply eagerly, placing a hand on her waist and winding another in her braid.

Katniss swallows my moan, and pulls me over to my bed where she lays back, pulling me down by the front of my shirt. My pencils roll off the duvet and clunk onto the floor as the bed sinks under our weight. I press open-mouthed kisses down Katniss' slender neck, focusing on the dip of her collarbone, knowing I'll leave a mark there.

The sound of the pencil tin my Dad bought for me on my tenth birthday clattering onto the floor awakes me. I lift my head from the pillow, running a hand through my hair. Shit. My head drops back down on my pillow. It was a dream- and a rather pleasant dream at that.

The alarm clock sitting on my bedside table shows that it's 4:30 a.m. I might as well stay up now, I'll be woken up at 5 start my morning hour shift before school.

My thoughts divert to what Denny told me last night.

_Picking up girls? Fucking Everdeen? _

I sit up and scrub my hands over my face. What was he talking about? I wrack my brain, trying to unravel what I've been accused of.

I've heard- and seen- Merchants and Seam kids alike who have been at the slagheap. But no one says anything. If you see and tell, it automatically means that you were at the heap too. And no one wants to admit to that.

But I've never been there.

I know what I'll do. I'll ask Katniss. And then, at least, I'll get some answers.


	10. Chapter 10: The Pin

**Wow, guys. Thanks for all the reviews and favourites and follows on my story! It's amazing! I couldn't thank someone who reviewed as a guest, so I'll thank you now, your review made me smile!**

**AND, guess what today's date is? Yup, the 12/12/12! We won't have another date like this for a long time, so enjoy it, I suppose. ;)**

**I know lots of you have been waiting for the big reveal, but I want to prolong it a bit more, so I can delve deeper into the feelings of Katniss and Peeta. This chapter is short, but it means that I'll update with another longer one very soon!**

**Enjoying reading!**

Wolves- Ben Howard

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I don't want to open my eyes. If I open my eyes, it means I'll have to actually respond to the fact that my little sister has been sitting beside against the bathroom door for half an hour begging me to come out.

"Katniss, please." She says.

I push myself upright. I fell asleep on the cold tiles of the bathroom last night, both my mind and body exhausted. My eyes are red and bloodshot, my back is throbbing, and my arms ache after lying on the hard ground throughout the night.

I couldn't bring myself to come out of the small cramped room. Facing my mother. Facing my sister. Facing myself. But Mom doesn't even know that I poured the Pennyroyal down the sink in a wave of confusion. Prim doesn't know that about anything.

"Go to school, Primrose. Your sister isn't feeling too well." Mom's soft voice rings out. I bite my lip.

"But that isn't fair!" Prim exclaims. "I don't thin-"

"Primrose Everdeen. Braid your hair and go to school." Mom says firmly. I can imagine Prim rolling her eyes.

I listen intently, my ear pressed against the door as the house falls into a tense silence. After a few minutes, the sound of Prim walking over the creaky floorboard alerts me of my sister's return, and she grumbles as Mom straightens her daughter's messy braids.

"Is Katniss alright?" I hear her ask. Mom doesn't answer for a long time.

"Yes. She'll be okay."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's just got a stomach bug. I gave her some medicine. She'll be better soon." Mom says.

"Okay. Tell her I said bye." Prim says.

The sound of the front door slamming shut is the only sound that breaks the quiet. I grimace. I feel bad for letting Prim walking by herself, but I guess that twelve is old enough to give her some responsibility.

"Katniss?" Mom's voice startles me. "Prim is gone now," She pauses. "You need to come out so I can help you. You're gonna be bleeding for a few days." I pop the lock on the door and sit up against the toilet. Mom pulls the door open and sits beside me, her knees cracking.

"I didn't take it. I couldn't take it." I confess quietly. I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Mom's hand awkwardly patting my shoulder is all it takes for me to burst into tears, leaning into my mother's touch. She seems momentarily surprised, but then draws me close, wrapping her bony arms around my thin frame.

"Oh, Katniss," She whispers. "Katniss, Katniss, Katniss."

"I was about to do it, and then I thought about what you said. That it's half of me. Half of him. I just couldn't do it." I hiccup, burying my face in my mother's stomach.

I cry until my tears run dry, and Mom sits me upright, pushing my messy hair back into place with a loving smile.

"I understand," She says. "I understand how hard all this can be."

"But by doing this I've ruined his life." I whimper.

"By doing this, you've saved everyone from a lot of heartbreak. He would've found out eventually. At least now you know that you didn't kill his child without his consent," Mom's eyes cloud over as she looks down at her lap. I squeeze her hand. "Look at me," She half-laughs. "I'm the one being comforted by you when it should be the other way round. I wish I could turn the clock back and start this all over. I wouldn't have abandoned Prim and yourself."

"It's alright." I say.

"No, it isn't."

"You were grieving." I mumble.

"And so were you two. Yet you got your arses into gear and got on with life. I just gave up."

"Mom…" I say.

"So, my dear, if you are sure about going through with this pregnancy, I promise to you now that I will be a proper mother to you. I won't let you down this time."

I stay silent for a long time, focusing my mind on breathing. After all these years, and my mother seems to be coming back to us. But why did _this_ have to happen for her to return?

"Thank you, Mom." I say, addressing my mother with the word 'Mom' for the first time in for as long as I can remember with real feeling behind it.

"I'm sorry," She says. "For everything."

"I'm sorry," I add. "For doing this to you. To us."

"Accidents happen." Mom smiles ruefully.

"Do you ever think I'll be able to think of this as something other than an accident?" I ask. "Do you think I'll ever be able to love… it?"

"He or she, Katniss. Never it," Mom says. I can see the cogs in her head turning as she smoothes the skirt of her dress. "And yes, I think you'll love he or she. You know, when I was pregnant with you, I had such bad morning sickness all through the nine months that I was sure I would hate you. I knew other people hated you, even though you were still inside me. But the second I held you in my arms, I knew that nothing else mattered. All the mornings I spent with my head down the toilet as with your father holding my hair- all the glares I got- seemed insignificant."

"I gave you morning sickness?" I ask Mom. She nods, a fond smile on her lips.

"And you kicked all the time."

"And Prim?" I continue, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Never moved, never made me ill. But when she was born, boy, did she cry."

A choked laugh erupts from my throat and I stand on wobbly legs.

"I want you to spend a day or two in bed. Get some sleep." Mom says.

"But I need to hunt. I need to go to school."

"We'll be fine." Mom insists.

"But-"

"Katniss Everdeen, go and get some rest." Mom says in the same tone she used to instruct Prim twenty minutes earlier.

With a small smile, I walk away, stretching my limbs as I walk. I pile all the blankets from Mom's bed onto my bed before flopping down on to the mattress, groaning in relief and snuggling under the covers.

My eyes shut minutes after my head hits the pillow. I need to sleep. Sleep with give my body and mind a break, so that when I wake, I can sort my life out, one step at a time.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

My plans to confront Katniss about running away from school, and being in tears when I visited her remain plans as the day wears on. I went through school with a feeling of dread and confusion- and it wasn't just because Denny was glaring at me every time he caught my eye. What's his problem?

And now I'm back home at the bakery. Slaving over hot ovens for hours, selling to gossiping women who chatter and giggle incessantly in my ear about rumours they've heard on their travels. It's all very tiring.

"Rye Mellark!" Mom's shriek radiates through the household. All eyes turn to the middle Mellark son, who is obviously panicking, trying to think of what he could've possibly done wrong- or to Mom's disliking.

"You better go. Sounds like she's in a good mood today." Fen advises.

"Shit." Rye mutters, pulling his apron off and running his flour-covered hands under the tap.

"Language!" Dad says in a half-hearted attempt at controlling his sons.

"Sod off old man." Rye grins, avoiding Dad's swatting hand.

"What do you think he's done?" I ask quietly.

"Probably stashed something under his bed thinking Mo wouldn't sniff it out." Fen grins. He twitches his nose, mimicking Mom when she trawls the house (our bedrooms) for offending items.

"Don't be mean." Dad sighs from the ovens.

We listen in an uneasy silence as Mom screams and shouts. A muted thud is heard.

"Oh dear." I comment.

"Does he ever learn?" Dad asks, looking up at the ceiling with raised eyebrows.

"Learn what?" Fen asks carefully.

"That if you're gonna hide something, you hide it under the floorboards." Dad rolls his eyes. I feel a grin on my lips.

"Why? What are you hiding, Dad?" Fen asks cheekily.

"Cake." Dad laughs.

The house is quiet for a second but then-

"Mom!" We hear Rye exclaim from upstairs. "I swear I don't know who's it is!"

"Oh, I see," Mom's voice snaps back. "You've lost track of who you've been _fucking_."

"I have a girlfriend!" Rye bellows back.

"Even more of a reason for you to stay faithful! Who do you think you are?" Mom screeches.

"Where did you get it from?" Rye's voice sounds out.

"I found it in the washing up pile."

"Where was the washing up pile?"

"Outside Peeta's room."

"So why did you assume I was the one at fault?" Rye asks.

"Because you're the one who can't keep it in your pants for ten seconds!" Mom retorts. "You can't be _my_ son! I haven't raised a sex-crazed idiot!"

Fen snorts in laughter. I grin, despite the fact that my brother is probably going to get a slap to the face.

"I'm not a sex-crazed idiot!" Rye shouts.

"Get downstairs…" Mom's voice grows quieter and my ears strain to hear her words, but to no avail.

Rye stomps down the stairs, purposefully stepping down heavily on each step, the house rattling. Dad reaches out and stills a jar filled with grain before it can slide off the shelf.

Fen wolf-whistles when Rye enters the room.

"Fuck off." My brother mutters.

"What was it?" I ask.

"You'll soon find out," Rye says, running his hand through his hair. "She wants you." He tells me, jerking his thumb towards the staircase. My brow furrows. This can only end badly. I pull my own apron off and wipe my hands on a rag, trying to rid them of the flour that is ever-present in the pores of my skin, it seems.

"You're a beast." Fen taunts Rye as I climb the stairs. A sly smirk appears on my lips.

"Wipe that grin of your face and explain to me _this_ is." Mom hisses as I walk down the corridor. Mom holds up a small, circular pin. I take it from her, running my fingertips over it. The pin looks old; the golden metal it's made from is dull. A bird in flight is in the middle, but what strikes me as strange is that grasped in its beak is a single arrow. Odd.

"It's a pin. I don't know what type of bird it is." I say.

"I know it's a pin, you insolent boy!" Mom cries. "I want to know why it was the in washing pile, outside _your_ door."

"I don't know. I've never seen that pin in my life." I shrug.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Mom asks.

'_Yes'._ I bite back my response.

"No-"

"No, what?"

"No, Ma'am." I sigh.

"Tell me where this pin is from."

"I honestly don't know." I say.

"You like drawing, don't you?" Mom asks. I nod. "Drawing is something little girls do. This bird pin seems unfit for a boy," I tune out. I do recognize that pin. "Are you a _girl_, Peeta?" Mom sneers.

"No, I-"

"Because last time I checked, you were a boy. A boy!"

"I'm sixteen, Mom." I remind her.

"And at sixteen you should pursuing suitable things. Not drawing pretty pictures!" She tears through my room, and pulls the pencil tin Dad bought me out from under my bed, pushing past me and hurrying down the stairs.

"Wait, Mom. No. What are you doing?" I ask her, flying after her.

"You are not a girl, Peeta!" Mom shouts, bursting into the kitchen.

"I know, I-"

"And only girls like to draw!" Mom finalises. "Now, I'm going to give you one last chance," Mom's eyes are wide and furious, fixed on my face. "Where did you get that pin?"

"I don't know!" I lie.

"Did someone give it to you?"

"No."

"Where did you get it from? Tell me, now! You can't afford silly things like this."

"I haven't seen it before!" I protest.

"Aymee, he doesn't know. Stop before you push things too far." Dad says, stepping forward.

"I bet you brought someone over here when we were visiting Great-Aunt Grace! And they gave you this then!" My mouth drops open. I survey the room. Mom is glaring, her lip upturned. Dad is staring, watching his youngest son and wife fight. Rye and Fen are watching, their eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappear into their hairlines. But they don't do anything in my defence. I don't blame them.

"I'm telling you the truth," I say as calmly as possible. "I don't know where the pin is from."

"Liar!" Mom yells. "Liars, all of you. I don't deserve to have sons like you. Fenton is the only one who doesn't mess around! You're nothing but a sex-crazed pest," She points an accusing finger at Rye. "And I thought you were just a complete idiot who want nothing in life except to draw and ice cakes!" Mom turns to me. "But now I see it all clearly. You're a sex-crazed pest too! What have you been hiding, Fenton? Are you filthy like your brothers?"

"Aymee!" Dad shouts, slamming his fist on the table, causing all of us to jump. "Enough!"

"Tell me, Peeta. What did you exchange for this pin? Whom did you exchange with?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I exclaim.

Mom undoes the catch on the tin and tips the pencils into the fires in the ovens before storming out of the room. I run, pushing my hands straight into the flames, feeling the heat lick at my skin as I try to pull my treasured belongings from the ovens.

"Peeta! No!" Dad says, pulling me away.

"But I need them!" I exclaim, struggling away from my father's grip. Fen joins my Dad and they pull me away from the fires. And then I feel the crippling pain that shoots through my hands and arms. I look down at my blistering red skin. Rye dunks my hands in the bucket of water we keep to put out any fires and my hands hiss. I whimper.

"You need your hands too." Fen says softly.

"I can get you new ones." Dad says, gesturing to the burning pencils and the melting pencil tin.

"It's not fair." I grumble.

"I know," Dad mutters. "I'm sorry."

"You'll need to go to the Everdeens and get some burn ointment." Fen says.

"Why on earth did you do that?" Dad asks me. I shrug, looking down at my hands as they sizzle in the dark water.

* * *

Rye walks to the Seam with me. My hands are wrapped in thick bandages. By now we've become accustomed to burns and other injuries- whether they were accidental or not, and have a good knowledge of how to deal with them.

"They hurting?" My brother asks me, looking down at my hands.

"Like hell." I reply, holding my hands out in front of me.

"Where did you get the pin from?"

"I don't know." I fib again.

But I do know where it's from. Katniss was wearing at the Reaping Dinner. And at Bron's house. It was pinned to her jacket. My head reels as I try to think of how it could've possibly ended up in my house.

Rye seems uncomfortable as he climbs the steps of the Everdeen house, his blue eyes moving over every crack in the wall, over the peeling paint covering the wooden walls. He knocks softly, as if he's afraid that knocking with any more force will bring the house down.

"Oh, hello." Primrose Everdeen greets us, staring up at my brother before her eyes flicker to me. "Do you want my mother?"

"Oh, uh…" Rye flounders.

"Yes, please." I say.

"Come on in," Prim opens the door even wider. Rye ducks through the door way and I follow close behind. "Mom?" Prim calls out. "Your expertise is required."

Mrs Everdeen appears from a back room, her face lined with worried creases.

"Prim, Katniss is fine." She says, before looking up and seeing her two guests. I frown. What's wrong with Katniss?

"Hi." Rye says awkwardly.

"How can I help you?" Mrs Everdeen continues, stepping forward and grasping Rye's hand and shaking it. She reaches out to shake mine too but pauses when she sees my bandaged fingers. "Oh, my dear. What happened?" She asks, taking my forearms and examining them.

"He got them caught in the flames of the oven." Rye explains. Katniss' mother frowns; narrowing her eyes, but says nothing to question Rye's explanation.

"You did well in bandaging them up, but I'm going to have to look at them to assess the damage," I wince as Mrs Everdeen sits me down and begins peeling off the bandages. "It isn't too bad. Nothing a layer of ointment and fresh bandages won't fix in a week or two."

"Mom, who is it?" A soft voice calls out. I look up at the same time as Rye. Katniss stumbles into the room, a blanket around her shoulders.

"Just Peeta and Rye." Mrs Everdeen. Katniss' head snaps up. She looks at me and our eyes lock. Her silver eyes widen, her mouth drops open, and she flees back to wherever she came from.

"Is she alright?" Rye asks. Mrs Everdeen looks up, her eyes sad.

"Yes. She just ate something bad and has a stomach ache." Mrs Everdeen smiles softly.

"Send her my best wishes." I say. She nods and wraps my hands again, her brow furrowed as she secures the linen around my wrist.


	11. Chapter 11: No Going Back

**Hello! Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites! You guys are awesome.**

**I've got word that some people took my warning about abortion on the 9th chapter too seriously, thinking that I was going on an 'anti-abortion rant'. I'm sorry if you mistook it for a rant, I was merely warning people of the subject matter. I'm not against abortion, nor do I judge those with different beliefs and situations, but I'm aware that some people are. Sorry for any misunderstandings!**

**Also, thank you to the other guest reviewers! I wish I could've replied :)**

**Again, thank you to everyone who has read this story!**

**Enjoy :D**

* * *

-Katniss-

School is suspended after the roof in the cafeteria _finally_ collapses. Mom is delighted and encourages me to stay in bed, forcing me to eat multiple bowls of soup and slices of bread and take various medicines.

"You need the rest, Katniss. You've been through a lot, and it can't be any good for the baby." She tells me, over and over again.

Complying with my mother's wishes, I stay in bed for a further two days, barely moving. My mind is filled with the same few thoughts... My family. Gale. Peeta. And… and… _our_ baby.

But eventually, I can't stand staying in the house any longer. Prim doesn't question me when she lays beside me in the dark of the night, but I always wake in an empty bed, finding my sister curled up beside my mother in a flurry of limbs.

I sneak out early the morning after my third day locked in the house, needing the fresh air and simplicity of the woods. Mom told me that I shouldn't go anyway or do anything that would make me stressed or force me to be physically active.

Naturally, I didn't listen, and I'm now perched high up in a gnarled oak tree, my back against the rough bark. My hands are resting on my lap, inches from my stomach. I can't bring myself to touch my belly- simply knowing that there is a life inside me. A life that was created in a drunken haze.

I nearly had a heart attack when I came out of the bedroom to see whom Mom was tending to, only to find the two youngest Mellarks sitting in the kitchen, looking out of place in my ramshackle house. Peeta's piercing blue eyes locked with my slate grey ones. His ability to search your very soul with just his gaze was unnerving; I squirmed under his stare. He looked like he knew something more. Something I didn't want him to know.

A soft breeze ruffles my hair. What if he already knows?

No. Unless he finally came to his senses, or someone told him, he wouldn't know. But who could have told him? I don't recall seeing anyone the night Peeta brought me back to the bakery. It was late at night- surely the district would've been in deep sleep by then?

Shaking away my troubled thoughts, I slide down from the tree and make my way through the forest. I've been here for hours. I watched the sun rise, the leaves become dappled in shades of orange and gold in the sunlight, listened to the sounds of the forest coming to life.

I need to shoot some animals down. We've gone nearly a week without fresh meat, scraping past with the remnants of the squirrel and the rabbit I caught in the days before Haymitch Abernathy put the idea of a child into my head.

Leaves crunch softly under my feet as I step lightly over the ground, my eyes alert and my breathing steady, my bow at the ready. Something scampers past me in the twisted vines of the undergrowth and I pause. Bending down, I pluck a rock from the ground and toss it into scrub. A plump rabbit shoots out. I spin around and shoot it.

Hunting has a calming affect on me, and eventually my hunting bag is weighed down with several rabbits, four squirrels, and even a pheasant, the brightly coloured feathers of it's tail sticking out of the gap in the drawstring. I sit on a tree stump, just hidden behind the trees that line the District 12 fence. My fingers are nimble as I pluck the pheasant, binding the feathers together in a bundle with some twine. They'll sell well at the Hob. The feathers are used for decorations and jewellery.

My stomach is knotted as I trek down the dusty slope of the hill. The Hob is busy- vendors are calling out prices and bargaining with customers. I stop at Greasy Sae's stall.

"Katniss, my dear. What do you have for me today?" Sae greets me as I sit on one of the stools at her booth.

"Squirrels, rabbits and a pheasant." I say, opening the bag and showing the contents.

"How about this?" She begins. "Thirty coins for the pheasant, a rabbit and two squirrels." I raise an eyebrow.

"Deal." I confirm, digging the said animals out and laying them onto the counter. Sae digs her hand in the pouch tied to her waist and counts out thirty dull gold coins before placing them in my hand.

"Thank you, child." She says.

"Thank you." I reply, tipping the coins into my pocket.

"Can I interest you in some soup?" Sae asks, stirring the large cauldron hidden behind the counter. "I heard that you were not feeling well."

"No thanks," I say, standing up. "Maybe next time." Sae nods, her eyes flitting to something over my shoulder. Whatever it is causes her brow to crease and her lips to purse. I turn.

"Katniss."

"Peeta," Standing behind me, golden hair aglow, is Peeta. "What are you doing here?" I ask him.

"My mother wanted some baking twine, but wouldn't come here alone." He explains. I look down. Sae coughs awkwardly.

"Did you want… did you want something?" I ask. He blinks, staring at me.

"Yeah. I… err… found this," He pulls something small from his pocket at holds it out to me. I take it, electricity shooting up my arm as his fingers graze mine. I bite my lip.

My Mockingjay pin.

"I didn't even realise I had lost this," I whisper. "Where did you find it?" Peeta looks down.

"Can we go… can we go somewhere private?" He asks me.

"Sure." I say, following him away from Sae's stall. I sit down at the florist's booth. The florist is away, visiting friends, so the stall has been empty and disused for weeks.

What could Peeta want? My head spins as I try to think. He sits beside me, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"I need to ask you something…" He begins, not meeting my eyes. "I've heard… stuff. Just things people have been saying, really," He pauses, knotting his fingers together. "But I can't think of what could've possibly happened."

I swallow. "What is it, Peeta?"

"I know it's probably just silly rumours…" He exhales, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically. "And please, Katniss. Don't think me weird for saying this…"

_He knows._

_Possibly not every detail, but he's beginning to get an idea._

"What happened the night of the party?" Peeta finally asks, looking up and locking eyes with me. "Because I don't think I ever walked you home."

Well, shit.

I have to tell him before he pieces the puzzle together and figures it out himself. I can only imagine the humiliation I would face if he found out any other way.

"Uh, well… No, you didn't walk me home…" I bluster. "You invited me around your house." Peeta's eyes widen.

"W-What?" He asks.

"You offered me something to drink." I shrug, trying to act nonchalant, picking at my nails even though my heart is racing in the cavity of my chest.

"Really?" Peeta asks, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Is that it?"

I frown. Does he honestly think that's it?

"Uh…" How do I even begin to explain?

"Because Denny Small said that…" Peeta takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as he tries to think. "No, never mind. I'm sorry that I've bothered you," Peeta says. "I was just confused… and I wanted to know because…" He shoots a rueful smile my way and stands, beginning to walk away.

I grab his wrist.

"That wasn't it," I whisper. "We slept together."

Peeta yanks his arm from my grip, his eyes wide. I feel my cheeks redden.

"We slept… together?" He stumbles.

"I'm sorry." I tell him. Peeta drags me over so we're standing behind the florist stall, hidden from prying eyes.

"When?" He exclaims.

"At Bron's party."

"At _his_ house?"

"No! No. We went back to your house." I explain.

"But that was three weeks ago! Why didn't you say anything?" Peeta runs a hand through his hair, pacing up and down in front of me, creating a dip in the dusty ground of the Hob. "Did you think this was some sort of everyday thing that you could forget about? Because I can't-"

"Peeta!" I hiss, interrupting his frantic words. "Just shut up for a second, will you?" Peeta stays silent, staring at me with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling. "I'm pregnant." I confess.

Peeta stops striding up and down, up and down.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Peeta says, shaking his head violently from side to side.

I slump onto the floor, tucking my knees under my chin and hiding my face in my hands. I can't believe I've just told him. Everything I've promised myself since I found out has been thrown into the wind. I vowed that I wouldn't tell Peeta. I would never involve him in this; I would never ruin his life by telling him that he was going to be a father. And now? And now I'm told him by yelling at him.

"Peeta, I'm sorry," I say, tears beginning to trickle down my cheeks. "I didn't want you to find out. It was your fault. It was mine because I was drunk and kissed you." I look up at Peeta. He crouches down in front of me, wrinkles his nose and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm. He's trying to keep calm. I should too.

"When did you find out?" He asks, inhaling through his nose, not meeting my gaze.

"I… uh… a week or two ago?" I flounder.

"Oh boy…" Peeta exhales. I bury my face into my knees.

"You're not angry with me, are you?" I mumble. Peeta's head snaps up and his eyes meet mine; unwavering and strong compared to my watery terrified ones.

"Katniss. Why would I be angry?"

"Because I slept with you and now you're gonna be a Dad and I'm gonna be a Mom and we're only sixteen and this is gonna ruin your life!"

"Katniss, no! I wouldn't be angry with you. You should be the angry one, you-"

"You slut." My head snaps up this time.

"What?" I exclaim.

"I didn't say anything." Peeta says.

"You called me a slut!"

"No, I didn't," Peeta says, standing and looking around. "Mom?"

I look up and stumble to my feet. Mrs Mellark is standing- half hidden by the side of the stall, her pale eyes hard, and her mouth pressed into a sharp line. Oh no.

"Peeta." She says, stepping out into full view.

"Mom, I can explain." Peeta says, his eyes wide and scared as they flick from me to the witch standing not two meters away.

"He didn't do anything wrong-"

"I don't want to hear it." Mrs Mellark snaps.

"Can't you just hear me out?" Peeta asks.

"Leave. Now," Peeta's mother says, her voice scarily steady and quiet. "We'll deal with this back home."

"Peeta." I say, brushing his forearm with my hand. He looks down at me, his eyes pained.

"I'll come back and talk to you." He promises. I bite my lip and watch as the youngest Mellark squares his shoulders, straightens his back and walk away.

* * *

I calm my breathing, wipe my eyes and stand on shaking legs.

There's no going back now.

"Katniss, my dear, are you okay?" Sae asks me as I pass her stall on the way out of the Hob.

"I'm fine Sae." I smile, desperate to just run home and sob into my pillow.

"Are you sure? You look pretty shaken up," Sae pauses, her hand stilling as she stirs the cauldron of soup. "What did the Mellark boy say? Did he do something?"

"No, no. It's nothing." I say.

"Alright dear," Sae says, disbelieving. "Thank you for the meat."

"I'll come back for some soup." I call, before disappearing through the jaggedly cut hole in the side of the warehouse that provides us with a door.

I can't help it. I look around for two blonde heads heading in the direction of the Merchant quarters, but I see nothing but black hair and decrepit houses.

Before I can get any ideas that would only lead to more embarrassment and shame, I race over the dry ground, not stopping until I reach our house at the edge of the street. I fling the door open, letting my tears fall.

"Katniss!" Mom exclaims. "Where have you _been_?"

"I had to get some air." I sob.

"Why didn't you leave a note? You shouldn't have gone anywhere! Now look what's happened!"

This causes me to pause. _'Now look what's happened?' _The red-hot blood coursing through my veins is replaced with frigid ice. Did Mrs Mellark march her son over here and scream and shout at my mother? At Prim?

"What? Do you know?" I ask her through my tears. Mom stands, her chair scraping loudly over the floor and advances towards me, leaving her knitting on the kitchen table.

"Do I know what?" She asks. "All I know is that I woke to find that you were gone!"

"Is Prim here?"

"She's out back. Milking Lady." Mom says, gripping my shoulders.

"I told him." I tell her.

"Who? Katniss- what are you talking about?" Mom asks, obviously confused.

"I told the father." I stutter, sudden realisation of what I've just done hitting me like a tonnes of bricks.

"Oh, Katniss," Mom soothes. But as she pulls me to her, wrapping her bony arms around my shaking frame, I find that my mind is racing.

I've just confessed everything to Peeta. And his mother was listening.

The connection joining my brain and mouth together must be faulty, or might not even exist. Do I not think before I speak? Why have I done this? Why?

"How did he react?" Mom questions into my hair. I think back to the Hob, remembering the way Peeta's eyes widened, the way a thousand different emotions flashed past them. How he knelt down to face me and spoke to me with a soft tone. He was scared- petrified even- but still spoke in a manner that would be used when a child had confessed to a little white lie. But this wasn't little. This was colossal. And the kind-hearted baker's son hadn't been angry, hadn't run away. He had stay put and tried to understand.

"He reacted fairly calmly." I reply.

"That's good. At least he didn't throw a fit."

"But his mother was there."

"There? It is his house, Katniss. You shouldn't be surprised that his one Mom was in the building." Mom smiles against my head.

"I told him at the Hob. He was there with his mother." I say.

"What were the Mellarks doing at the Hob?" Mom asks. I stiffen. Mom pulls away, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"How did you find out?" I scream. She steps back. "Who told you?"

"No-one told me!" Mom says. "I guessed, and I think I'm right! When Peeta and Rye came over, your reaction to them when you walked in made it pretty obvious!"

"But his Mom knows!" At this, my mother's face pales.

"Katniss, this will all be alright." She says. I shake my head.

"No, it won't. You know what she's like. Everyone knows." I say.

"Which of the Mellarks is the father?" Mom asks. I blink.

"What?"

"Farrell wouldn't do it, so it has to be either Fenton, Rye or Peeta." I swallow.

"Fenton has a girlfriend." I say. How could Mom honestly have no idea of which of the Mellark sons is the father of my unborn child?

"So… it's Rye or Peeta?"

"It's Peeta," I acknowledge. "Rye and Fenton are way too old, Mom!"

"But Peeta's such a good boy." Mom nods slowly.

"He was drunk. We both were." I say.

"I'm sorry Katniss." Mom says.

"I don't know what to do," I mumble. "His Mom looked furious, but she didn't yell or anything. I'm afraid that she'll take it out on him at home."

"I'll talk to them, try to get this sorted." Mom says.

"No. I'll speak. This is my doing." I say, feeling numb.

"Katniss! Why are you crying again?" Prim asks, walking into the kitchen after milking Lady, Buttercup lounges in her arms, but she dumps him on the sofa much to his annoyance.

"I'm fine Prim." I say, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers.

"No, you're not," Prim says, walking up to me with a face of stone, her braids swinging from side to side. "You keep crying. You've been lying about in bed all day for the past week. I don't think you're ill. If you had a stomach bug, you'd be better now because Mom is giving you medicines-"

"I'm fine Prim!" I shout, my loud voice everyone- including myself- to jump. Buttercup hisses at me, his fur sticking up. "I'm fine," I repeat softly. Prim stares at me. Mom stares at me. I close my eyes. The darkness behind my lids is welcomed- it allows me to escape from the real world, if only for a very seconds. I've never shouted at Prim. Never. Not when she would mess something up. Not when she yelled at me. "Prim, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled." I look up, only to find my sister running to me and flinging her skinny little arms around me.

"It's okay Katniss." She says. I stare, dumbfounded. Mom smiles.

"I'm sorry." I tell her. Mom walks forward and joins in the hug. For the first time in many years, I feel like I'm part of a family again.

* * *

-Peeta-

Mom's sharp nails dig deep into the flesh of my arm as she drags me away from the Hob.

"I knew I shouldn't have gone to that place. It's a hellhole. Crawling with shit-headed people. Filled with shit." She mutters. I stumble along behind her, in a daze, my head spinning.

All I can hear is the distinctive wobble in Katniss' voice when she confessed what our drunken fumble had resulted in.

'_I'm pregnant.'_

Two simple words that had led to so much fear and confusion. I've loved Katniss since she sang the Valley Song on our first day of school, and had sometimes caught myself wondering what it would be like to have a family with her. But not like this. Never like this.

We reach the bakery after ten minutes- my chest heaving with the effort of trying to focus on not tripping up on Mom's heals as she pulled me along at breakneck speed. There is an old lady being served by Fen. Mom lets me go and pushes the woman towards the door.

"We're closed." She snaps.

"But I haven't even paid yet!" The lady protests. Mom lunges forward and pulls the paper bag from the customer's grip.

"Well, you needn't pay for anything now!" She says with false joy littering her face. Fen shoots me a questioning look. I look at him, but my face feels heavy. My brows feel like they are being dragged down, along with my lips. I probably look like I'm about to cry. Mom slams the door, locks it, and flips the 'open' sign to 'closed'.

"Mom, is everything alright?" Fen asks innocently.

"Get in the kitchen," She hisses. "Where are your father and brother?"

"In the kitchen," Fen tells her, glancing -wide-eyed- from me to Mom. "Why?"

"Just get into the fucking kitchen!" Mom exclaims. Fen closes the cash register and walks ahead. I follow close behind.

"What's all this shouting?" Dad asks cheerfully as we enter the kitchen. He looks up, but the smile on his lips swiftly falls in the place of a concerned line. Rye looks up from the ovens, sweat covering his forehead in a thin sheen.

"This should be fun." He says, pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven and setting them on the side to cool. I stand by the wall, wishing the ground would just swallow me whole.

"Wait, whose manning the shop?" Dad asks.

"We're closed." Mom snaps, her jaw locked as she glares at me, her arms over her chest.

"Okay… So what is this all about?" He asks, rinsing his hands under the tap, washing away the flour.

"Your son has some explaining to do." Mom says, her voice steady like it was in the Hob. I don't like it. None of us like because we know that it's just the calm before the storm. And it won't be any old storm, it'll be a full-blown tempest sent from the gods, filled with such joys as screaming and cursing and hitting and tears.

Dad looks warily around, first at Rye, who shrugs. His gaze redirects to Fen. He motions to me with the tilt of his head. Dad looks at me, his eyes confused. I sigh heavily.

"I'm sure that whatever Peeta did to make you angry wasn't as bad as you thought, Aymee," Dad says, scratching his head. "You normally blow it up into something bigger than it actually is." Mom whips around and glares at her husband. He deflates a little.

"Oh, I'm sorry Farrell," She says sarcastically. Rye leans back against the countertop, rolling his eyes. "Do I make a mountain out a molehill all the time? Because now I think that your son needs to explain of what he's been doing all this time. Maybe then you'll understand!" Mom's voice gets more hysterical as she continues speaking.

"Alright, alright," Dad says, raising his hands in defeat. He turns to me. I grimace. "Peeta, would you care to explain?"

"No." I mutter. Mom's reaction is surprisingly quick.

"You tell them, or I will!" She hisses, narrowing her eyes. I take a deep breath and gaze around the room. Mom is fuming; Dad looks concerned and my brothers look bored, but slightly curious.

It's now or never, I guess. I can't go back now.

"Well…" I begin, drawing it out, struggling to find the right words. I can almost cut the tension in the room with a knife. "Dad, you're gonna be a Grandfather, and Fen and Rye, you're uncles."

Silence.

Gut-wrenching, blood-chilling silence so cold I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

"What?" Dad asks, his head working overtime as he tries to process what I've just said.

"Fuckin' hell, Peet. You knocked someone up?" Rye exclaims, his eyes bulging.

"I was drunk, she was drunk. I never meant for this to happen!" I say, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. Dad looks so disappointed in me. Fen and Rye just look like they've slapped. Mom is still fuming.

"Who was it?" Fen asks softly.

"It doesn't matter-"

"Katniss Everdeen." Mom interrupts. I stare at the tiled floor.

"Katniss Everdeen?" Dad asks. He knows that I like her. He's always known.

"Yes! Katniss Everdeen!" Mom screeches. "That filthy _whore_ has wormed her way into our lives but getting _you_-" She points an accusing finger at me. "Drunk, and now she's knocked up!"

"She isn't a whore!" I explode, pushing myself upright from the wall and standing my ground. I can't stand this anymore. The feeling of Dad's shocked gaze. Fen and Rye's looks of incredulity. Mom's sharp, calculated words that pour out of her mouth like lava, and it's all directed to me. So I just let my emotion out by shouting. Shouting louder than Mom can. "She is not a filthy whore. Or a rat. Or a slut!" Mom looks taken aback. "She's just a girl who has struggled all her life because her Dad was blown to pieces, her Mom is unable to care for her, and no-one gives the slightest damn in hell about her!" I run a hand down my face. "And now I've ruined her entire life because I can't handle my alcohol without fucking up! So you can't yell at me, or at her, for something that was an accident!"

More silence.

But this time, it isn't gut-wrenching or blood-chilling. It's angry and heated.

"How dare you!" Mom screams, stepping forward and slapping and over the cheek. "How dare you contradict me? All I've done is give give give, your entire life. I don't deserve a son like you! Fen and Rye aren't sex-crazed pests! You are!" Mom throws her arms into the air. "And you have the guts to yell at me? At your mother who has tried to stop things like this happening because it will only end badly?"

"You don't deserve a son like me?" I shout, repeating Mom's words. "You don't deserve anything! All you do is take!"

"That is enough!" Dad roars, bringing his fist down on the table. "Aymee, and Peeta, stop screaming at each other like complete babies."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Mom barks. She steps up to me. "I don't want you associating with that… that bitch… ever again. I don't want you to look at her, think about her or even think about thinking about her!"

"Don't call her a bitch." I warn.

"She's a whore."

"Call her something mean one more time and I swear to God…" I say, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to curb my anger.

"You'll do what Peeta?" Mom asks in an icy singsong voice. "You'll go back to that slut to see if she'll let you fuck her again? But don't worry this time about knocking her up- you've already done that without realising!"

"Aymee! Get upstairs and let me handle this!" Dad bellows.

"I'm warning you." Mom snarls, the vein in her forehead sticking out. And with that, she exits the room.

An eerie sense of calmness fills the room, and I finally let myself go, tears dribbling pathetically down my cheeks.

"I'm s-sorry Dad." I sob. Dad composes himself and then wraps me into a bear hug.

"I know son, I know."

"I never meant f-for this to happen."

"I know you didn't. You're a good person."

"But Mom winds me u-up so bad, and I can't handle her taking it out on K-Katniss."

"Did she tell you at the Hob?" Fen's soft voice rings out. I move away from my father and face him.

"Yeah. I gave her her pin back too."

"That was hers?" Rye asks.

"Yep, she left it here," I explain. "She looked so upset and scared when she told me. She asked if I was angry. I told her I wasn't because I didn't know how I was feeling."

"You did the right thing son." Dad says.

"I've ruined everything." I hiccup.

"Maybe, but we'll fix it. You know we will." Dad smiles at me, his eyes pained.

"I don't think this is something we can fix." I mumble.


	12. Chapter 12: Preparing for the worst

**Sorry for the wait. I'm doing a French exam in a few days and absolutely shitting myself, and as well as that I've just had my braces tightened and am in a crappy mood. Any way, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Nearly 100 reviews! :') You all make my day! P.S. I'm gonna try and update quicker but with slightly smaller chapters. I'll try it, starting with this chappie :P**

**Enjoy reading :)**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

What have I done?

After coming home and sobbing and wailing for hours, I fell asleep by the fireplace. All night I was tormented by images. Images of Peeta being beaten by his mother, just because of me and my big mouth. I have so many questions, though I'm sure that Peeta is the one who wants to grill me.

His eyes took on a dark shine when I finally told him, but I couldn't help but recognise the colour. Lapis blue. Sapphire blue. The gems I saw on TV a few years ago during the games- where the winter was all the rage and most of the tributes were drenched in shining blue diamonds and gemstones of various shades of blue and silver.

But Peeta's eyes darkened so quickly it was almost terrifying. Yet I recognised them from somewhere. I frown; giving up from searching through my mind- it's giving me a headache.

I roll onto my back, stretching my limbs like a cat. The floor is uncomfortable, but I can't find the energy to move. I feel drained, as if all the motivation to do _anything_ has been sucked out of me. I don't want to move. I'd be happy to just lie here, staring blankly up at the ceiling all day.

Despite the voice in my head desperately trying to stop me, I find myself thinking of the blonde-haired boy with the bread. What is he doing right now? Is he asleep? Being screamed at by his mother? Being beaten? I shake my head. If I continue to think about the father of my child, I'll never think of anything else ever again. As my eyes stay fixed on the warped boards of the ceiling, I let my hands rest on my stomach. At three weeks- a few days until the first month, there will be no evidence of a baby. My stomach won't start to swell until about four or five weeks, but if this winter is harsh and I loose weight, I'll show much earlier than other woman who can eat properly.

Something tugs at my heart. A pain, a strange feeling. I realise after several minutes of silent pondering, that it's fear. Fear that I won't get enough nutrition to support the life inside of me. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. Why am I feeling this way? Surely I shouldn't have any emotion when it comes to thinking about what has happened. I should be feeling disgust. Anger. But not fear. Not fear that I could loose this baby.

Mom's words bounce around in my head.

'_I think you'll love he or she.' _Does she honestly think that? I'm a cold person. I only show emotion to family and very few select friends like Gale. And even then, I don't let the barriers I built up down, in the worry that if I do that I'll get hurt. I learnt that when Dad died. I turned to my mother, thinking that she'd take care of me, but was met with a blue-eyed ghost who just stared and stared and stared at nothing all day.

The stark pain resulting from Mom's rejection forced me to grow up and take charge- leaving no room in my heart or time in my life to focus on my feelings. My emotions. And now that Mom has seemingly returned and all this has happened, everything I've kept locked up inside has come flooding out. I can only hope that this time round I'll have people to fall back onto if- when- things get rough.

"Oh, Katniss," Mom says, spying me on the floor. "You'll do yourself no good if you lay on the floor."

"I'm fine." I shrug. Mom bites her lip, pulling her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"You want something to eat?" She asks.

"Yeah. I'm going hunting after though."

"Katniss-" Mom protests, her brow furrowing. I push myself upright onto my palms.

"I'm going. It's the only place I can think clearly."

"Please, please be careful." She says.

"I will." I climb to my feet.

"I don't want either of you to get hurt." Mom adds. I nod, head spinning. Either of you. It's gonna take a while to get used to saying that.

And hour later, I'm pulling on my father's jacket and heading to the forest, stepping lightly through the meadow, checking for Peacekeepers and the hum of electricity surging through the metal fence, before sliding under the gap and disappearing into the forest.

Instantly my mind feels clear, as if the forest has pushed all the worry from my mind away for the time being. Dad always said that the forest made him feel in touch with nature- as free as a bird. I know what he means.

Fishing my bow and quiver full of arrows from the hollow trees I hide them in, I follow my usual route past a small stream until I reach Gale and mine's meeting place overlooking the valley. I sit down, my legs swinging out over the rocky outcrop. I wonder why Gale and I don't sit up here instead of down below the rock. The view is way better from here, the looming mountains in the distance holding up the sky.

Something grabs hold of my ankle and tugs downwards, causing me to shriek and attempt to yank my foot away.

A deep, bellowing laugh sounds from below and I scramble onto my hands and knees, peering over the rock to find Gale lying on his back and clutching at his stomach as he laughs.

"You freaked me out!" I exclaim. "Fuck you Gale."

"Your face!" He gasps for breaths.

"I know, I know. Hilarious." I roll my eyes, jumping down to the grey rock below and kicking my friend in the legs. Once he's composed himself, he sits upright and bumps his shoulder to mind.

"You alright?" He asks. I nod affirmative.

"Why?"

"Your Mom told my Mom and she told me that you were feeling unwell." Gale explains, picking at the sole of his boot again. I slap his hand away.

"I'm fine. Just a stomach… bug," I shrug it off. "You?"

"I'm alright," Gale replies. "But Posy keeps getting sick. I don't want her to be ill over the winter."

"I'm sure she'll be okay." I say.

"Hope so." Gale says. We fall into a comfortable silence, and I pull my knees up to my chest, watching the trees covering the land in front of me rustle and sway in the breeze.

"What do you suppose is out there?" I ask Gale, breaking the quiet.

"Out where?" He asks.

"Out there." I say, spreading my arms wide in a grand gesture, motioning to the valley.

Gale thinks for a while, narrowing his grey eyes and scanning the land. "District 13." He finally answers. I grin.

"You know as well as I do that District 13 was blown to bits years ago."

"Yeah, but what if it had rebuilt itself."

"The Capitol surely keeps watch. They'd destroy anything suspicious." I say. Gale tilts his head to one side.

"Darius reckons that they've rebuilt underground," Gale says. I picture the young Peacekeeper with flame coloured hair. "Right under Snow's nose."

"Like moles?" I suggest. Gale laughs.

"Yeah, Catnip. Like moles." He grins. I contemplate the thought for a few moments. Maybe. Just maybe. The thought gives me a sense of hope.

"No, I mean further than District 13. Further than the Capitol. Further than Panem." This causes Gale to go into deep thought.

During school, we've only been taught about a select few subjects that all tie in together. Maths, Basic English and Coal Sciences. And then, there are things like Panem History and the history of all 75 years of the Games and the Rebellion that caused them. But nothing has been told about the time before the Dark Days. All we were told was that it was a land of greed and wars and hatred. Days darker than the Dark Days themselves.

"Nothing?" Gale asks.

"But there has to something. Other people. Other places," I say. "Surely there's something outside of Panem?" Gale wrinkles his nose.

"But where's Panem, Catnip?" He asks. I frown.

"Good question." I mumble.

For a few more hours Gale and I hunt and gather berries and other edible plants. We chat to fill the quiet, only falling silent when there is possible game nearby.

"Thom said that the school is gonna start being rebuilt tomorrow." Gale tells me.

"Ugh. Why?"

"Mayor Undersee requested that it be rebuilt swiftly. Wrote directly to the Capitol."

"How long do we have left?" I ask.

"Don't wanna give up your freedom?" Gale questions with a smirk. I shake my head. "In about a week. Two at the most. They've drafted everyone in to help."

"You helping?"

"Yup."

"Make the build go wrong for me?" I plead, dreading going back to school. Gale laughs, but I don't return it. I'm deadly serious. Going back to school means facing Peeta and his family. It means facing the prying eyes that will undoubtedly taunt me. Hopefully the Mellarks won't join in.

At the Hob I'm grateful that the florist has returned and set her stall back up. It means that I won't be able to see the back of her booth- the place where everything fell apart. Gale and I trade with Greasy Sae, Gale chatting enthusiastically with the older woman as I stand beside him, trailing my finger over the grain of the wooden stool I've often sat upon. Sae's wrinkles skin creases as she shoots glances at me. She knows something's up.

"Are you gonna go trade at the bakery?" Gale asks me as we leave the Hob a good half hour later, pouches half-filled with coins bouncing against our hips, only a few animals left in our game bags.

"No!" I exclaim, my eyes wide. Gale looks surprised. "No, I'm not." I add, trying to cover my tracks.

"You seem jumpy." Gale observes.

"I'm fine, Gale." I snap.

"And moody." He says, tugging playfully at the end of my braid. I roll my eyes.

"I'm just gonna head home now." I say.

"See ya."

"Bye." I nod, before spinning on my heel.

_Nice going, Katniss_. I think to myself. _Nice going._

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I wake hidden in between stacks of boxes in the basement of the bakery. After I sobbed for about half and hour, listing all things that would go wrong because of what I did to Katniss. Mom stayed upstairs for most of it and Rye and Fen just stood their in silence as I explained everything, their eyes wide. Dad was subdued. I know he was disappointed, but the shock of my confession stunned him into some sort of daze.

By the time my tears had run out, I made myself a cup of coffee, and proceeded to make my father and brothers some too. We drank in silence, and when I finished I just rested my head on the table and tried to block out everything and everyone. Mom burst into the room, a fresh wave of rage ready to be released upon me, and I ended up with a slap across the face and a hot poker jabbed at my stomach. Dad and Fen pulled Mom away, and I watched as a small hole the shape of the poker appeared on my shirt, and a searing hot pain- worse than my almost healed hands- spread over my stomach.

"You deserve it!" Mom screeched. "Get out of my house! Now! I don't want to see you or that little whore or you bastard child!" Dad shot me an apologetic smile as he hauled Mom upstairs, and a few moments later I could hear heated voices upstairs.

Mom's words, however, helped it sink it. In a few short months, I'm going to be a father. I can only imagine the vicious rumours that will circulate the district, the taunts I'll receive. The struggle I'll endure. But I shake my head violently, scrubbing at my face until my nails scrape at my skin. I should be worrying about Katniss. She's the one who has to have my child. The one who has to look after it. I could easily just ignore her- pretend that I had nothing to do with and move on without a thought. I'm sure anyone else would be able to that. But I can't. I can't abandon the girl I love.

I fled to the basement and hid myself behind towering piles of boxes, blocking my ears with my hands, and tried to sleep. I'd be cranky without sleep, and won't be able to think clearly. But to no avail. Mom and Dad argued throughout the night, only ceasing in the early hours of the morning.

"Peet? You awake?" A hushed voice calls out from somewhere behind the boxes.

"Yeah." I croak in response, my throat dry after crying all night.

"Where are you?" The voice replies. It's Rye.

"Over here."

"Where's here?" My brother asks. "Are you coming out or not?"

"I'm planning on staying here for the rest of my life," I say. "Mom's gonna kill me."

"She's got a headache." Rye hisses. Whenever Mom has a 'headache', she stays in bed, the curtains drawn, all day. It's a horrible thing to say, but we all have better days when she isn't around- breathing down our necks and snapping at our every move.

"I'm coming out." I say, using the wall as leverage to stand up. I brush my pants off and climb through the boxes. Rye's standing in the doorway, waiting for me.

"Jeez, Peet. You look rough." He comments, ruffling my hair.

"Thanks." I roll my eyes, walking past and up the creaky stairs that lead to the ground floor. I can tell Rye is trying his best in making me feel better, but he's desperately trying to avoid the subject of my impending fatherhood. Rye and I have never been close. It's something I miss.

Once we enter the kitchen, Fen surprises me by throwing his arms around me and patting me roughly on the back.

"You're alright, Peet." He says. I nod into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." I mumble.

"Why are you apologising?" Rye asks.

"Because I ruined everything for everyone."

"No," Fen shakes his head; his trademark Mellark curls falling into his eyes. "Mom is who's making this into a massive huge event."

"But it is a massive huge event." Rye says.

"Thank you, Rye." Fen says sarcastically. I sit at the kitchen table, grabbing the non-wobbly stool surrounding the table. My brothers stare at me.

"Aren't you bothered at all?" I ask them.

"I just having trouble processing the fact that you're sixteen and have already knocked up a girl." Rye snorts.

"That's only because you didn't even get to second base till you were sixteen." Fen reminds my brother jovially.

"Because you were lanky and awkward." I grin. Rye grinds his teeth together.

"Unlike you, who seem to have the good genes." Fen says, pointing to me. I laugh.

"Alright, I get the point!" Rye says, jamming toast into his mouth.

"I'm sure you'll be okay," Fen says. "Mom will warm up, and you know what you've got Dad and us two."

"Thanks, guys." I say, twisting my fingers together.

"Have you spoken to Everdeen yet?" Rye pipes up.

"No, Mom kinda dragged me out by my hair after I told her. Haven't seen her since."

"You gonna talk to her."

"Probably," I rest my elbows on the table and my head in my hands. "I don't know if I can do this though."

"You'll be alright, little brother." Fen says.

"You've got the Mellark charm to fall back on."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Thank the Gods that you've got brothers like us." Rye says, nudging Fen in the ribs.


	13. Chapter 13: Words to be said

**OMG you guys are awesome! Thank you for the amazing response to this. Really, it means so much. :') **

**A****nyway, I won't be posting till after Christmas, so until then, MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope you all have a great day. (And if you don't celebrate Christmas, enjoy whatever events you have coming up) :D**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

The stars are blazing in the night sky, blinking against the dark night. I look up, resting my head against the wooden posts that are holding up the porch surrounding the porch.

After dinner, I sat outside to get some air. Mom and Prim stayed in the kitchen, darning clothes and chatting. Prim still doesn't know about the baby. I fear of her reaction when I tell her. She's a kind-hearted person and I doubt she would react in any other way that being supportive. But she's had to grow up so fast. At twelve, I've tried to shelter her as best as I can, but there are some things that I cannot stop from her seeing or hearing or experiencing.

The night air is crisp against my bare skin. Although the weather is changing, from the sweltering heat of summer and early autumn, to the humidity of late autumn and the crisp bite in the air of winter, I find myself wearing a dress. Mom insisted- claiming that it was about time for my hunting clothes to be washed properly. So now I'm stuck wearing dresses until Hazelle sends my clothes back.

I inhale, breathing in deeply, filling my lungs. Despite my situation, and the thoughts whirling around my head, I find myself feeling strangely calm.

After the commotion of telling Peeta, his mother overhearing and him being carted away, my attempts at coming to terms of my position without causing too much trouble or commotion. I don't want anyone suspecting anything. I want to take this as it goes. I want to tell people when the time is right. When my own mind is clearer.

I'm so preoccupied with my thoughts that I don't hear the sound of heavy footsteps advancing over the parched ground, the dry grass. My head lifts from the post behind me, and my eyes widen when, out of the shadows of the Seam, where there are no working streetlights, two blonde heads appear bobbing up and down as they walk.

I jump up, balancing on the balls of my feet, and step back into the shadow of my house to watch the people approach. Why would a Merchant be here?

My stomach lurches and I inhale sharply as the people come into view.

It's Peeta and his father.

I smooth my hair down and try to natural; slipping onto the rickety stool perched on our front porch.

"We shouldn't have come here." I hear Peeta's soft voice ring out from the street.

"If we don't come here, I doubt this would be talked about." Mr Mellark's deep voice replies.

"She's angry with me," Peeta says. "She wont want to talk to me, or look at me…" He trails off, and I frown. Peeta thinks I'm angry with him? If anything, I worried about him.

"I'm sure that if you just talk it through, you'll be able to come to some agreement," Mr Mellark insists. "This house, isn't it?" He asks.

"This is it." I speak up, and I'm greeted by two pairs of piercing blue eyes as both Peeta and his father whip their heads up to see where my voice is coming from.

"Miss Everdeen." Mr Mellark says, pulling his cap from his head, unsure of himself.

"You might as well come on in." I sigh, standing and pushing the front door open.

Mom and Prim look up from their work when I enter the room.

"Mr Mellark and err… P-Peeta are here." I say shakily. Mom's eyes widen.

"Prim, I think you should get some sleep." She says.

"But I'm not tired."

"Can you please go to your room, Primrose?" Mom repeats, giving my sister a pointed look. Prim rolls her eyes, but gets up and leave the room. Mom quickly tidies the table, pushing the needing repair clothes to the side along with her needles.

"Dahlia, you look well." Mr Mellark says, his looming presence filling up the room.

"Farrell, the same to you." Mom says, giving Peeta's Dad a smile.

I grip the top of a kitchen chair, glancing quickly up at Peeta. He's standing behind his father, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Would like some tea?" Mom asks, breaking the tense silence.

"Yes, please. If you can spare it." Mr Mellark says.

"Sit, please. Katniss, bring over another chair for Peeta, will you?" Mom instructs, bustling over to the kettle and filling it with water, the sound of teacups clinking seeming too loud. I bite my lip, and move over to bring over the chair in the corner of the room.

"I can do it." Peeta whispers. I jump, not realising that he was standing just behind me. I move away, letting him bring the chair over, but I still see his eyes. They're pained. Deep purple shadows hang under his eyes, showing he's barely slept recently. My heart aches when I catch sight of his red-rimmed eyes. He's been crying.

Once we're seated at the table, Mr Mellark and Peeta sitting opposite Mom and myself, the only sound to be heard is the sound of Mom and Peeta's father sipping tea. I fold my arms over my chest and stretch my legs out under the table.

Peeta seems to have the same idea and his boots touch mine. I jerk my legs away and Peeta's cheeks grow red. He still doesn't look up at me.

"I think it would be better to sort this out now, rather than later." Mr Mellark says, setting his teacup on the table.

"I agree." Mom says, mimicking his actions.

"I'm aware of the err… _predicament_… Peeta has put Katniss in," Mr Mellark says, glancing between Peeta and I.

"Do you have any idea of what you would like to do next?"

"I'd like to take this one step at a time," Mom says. "I hope that we will be able to come to some agreement about how we shall go about this."

"Peeta is a an honest boy. I'm proud to call him my son. He's willing to help."

"I'm sure he is, Farrell. Katniss is willing to make this as easy as she can."

"Peeta will be seventeen in December."

"Katniss in May." Mom nods her head.

"Has marriage, Dahlia, crossed your mind? Peeta would be a loyal husband to your daughter. It would save everyone from being under the impression that this ever happened."

"I have to admit, the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but now you've mentioned it, I can see why it would be a good thing-"

I stand up, my chair scraping loudly over the floor.

"Stop!" I exclaim. "Just stop it!"

"Katniss!" Mom hisses. "You are not in the position to argue!"

"I don't care!" I cry. "You can't sit there and organize my life. You can't sit there and expect me to just fall into place. I won't marry Peeta just to save everyone some embarrassment!"

I run my hand through my hair, rage coursing through my veins. "Peeta doesn't want to marry me. No-one wants this. Just stop thinking that you can plan my life out." I stare around the room.

Peeta has finally looked at me, his eyes wide. Mr Mellark and Mom have been apparently stunned into silence. I feel tears fall from my eyes, warming my cheeks.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, before running out of the room.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Dad looks at me. I look at Mrs Everdeen. She purses her lips, her cheeks sucked inwards, making her look thinner than usual.

"I'm going to go and talk to her." I say, standing and exiting the room before anyone can stop me.

I find Katniss sitting on the porch steps, her knees tucked under her chin, her beautiful grey eyes staring into the distance as silent tears run down her pale cheeks.

"Katniss?" I call out softly. Her shoulders tense when she hears my voice.

"What do you want?" She asks. I take a deep breath and step forward, before sitting beside her, the wood below my feet creaking and groaning.

"I want to tell you that I'm sorry." I say.

"Why are you sorry?" Katniss asks monotonously. "When your father said that it was your fault for putting me in this situation, I wanted to scream. This is my fault."

"No, Katniss. I'm the one that caused this-"

"You should be angry at me. I'm surprised, Peeta."

"Why?" I ask.

"Your reaction… when I told you. You looked frightened, but you kept calm and spoke to me."

"How else would you have wanted me to react?" I ask. Katniss snorts.

"I don't know," She confesses. "But I'm glad- at least- that you've actually spoken to me." I pause.

"Are you going to keep it?" I ask her, fearing the answer.

If Katniss gets rid of this baby, I don't know how I would react. It would fill me with sadness, though I'm sure that after time, I would realise that it would probably save us from so much pain. I put my head my hands, rubbing my eyes with my palms until it hurts.

I realise that Katniss has been silent for a long time. I turn to her, and find that she's staring at me, her eyes locked on mine.

"I nearly did." She says. My heart skips a beat.

"Nearly?"

"So, very nearly," Katniss nods her head. "I asked Mom to help me. She gave me Pennyroyal to take," Katniss swipes her hand over her eyes, a choked sob erupting from her throat. I shift closer, putting an arm around her.

She leans into me. "But I couldn't do it. I had the bottle of Pennyroyal on my lips, but I just thought about it. About the fact that if I swallowed the Pennyroyal, it wouldn't just be killing part of me. It would be killing part of you too."

"Oh Katniss. Katniss, Katniss." I sooth.

"And I already owe you so much," She mumbles. "This is the least I can do."

"What are you talking about?" I ask her, my eyebrows knitting together.

"The bread. When I was eleven and starving."

"You remember that?"

"You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope." Katniss says simply.

And that's when it clicks.

"You kept it… because you think you owe me?" I ask her, my blood turning to ice. Katniss stays silent. "No! Katniss! You can't!"

"It's done, Peeta. I'm almost three months along. It's too late." Katniss says, pushing me away.

"But I can't let you doing this!" I say.

"You should go home, Peeta. I'm going to get your father and then you can go. I'll see you later, after I've had more time to think."

I'm left standing outside as Katniss disappears into her home. Dad comes out moments later, Mrs Everdeen close behind.

"I'm sorry. I'll try and reason with her, get her to see sense." Katniss' Mom says, her eyes sad.

"I hope she can see why this would be a good thing," Dad nods solemnly. "But until then, I hope you all remain well."

"The same to your family." Katniss Mom says. I look up at her.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mrs Everdeen. I promise that I will try and help your family in as many ways as I can." I say.

"Thank you, Peeta." Mrs Everdeen replies.

"Come one, lets go." Dad tells me, placing a consoling hand on my shoulder and leading me away.

Once the darkness of the Seam engulfs us, I feel that it's a little safer to speak.

"She said that she was going to get rid of it." I say.

"But she didn't. I know." Dad says, replacing his worn cap and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"You do?" I ask.

"Dahlia- Mrs Everdeen, I mean, told me," Dad corrects himself. "Katniss cares about you, you know."

"No she doesn't." I say.

"Maybe not in the same way that you do for her, but enough that she didn't kill you child," Dad says. "And to me, that is a love strong enough."


	14. Chapter 14: Hanging by your fingernails

**Awh, you guys! All your reviews, favourites and follows mean so much! I hope everyone had a great Christmas and will have a fun New Year. Enjoy :D**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

"You're pregnant?"

I blink, bringing my hand up to shade my eyes from a ray of golden sunlight streaming through the window.

"W-what?" I mumble, pushing myself upright from the mattress.

"When the Mellarks came round last night! The walls aren't that thick, I could hear, you know." Prim exclaims, her eyes wide as she stares at me. I freeze, staring at my sister.

"Prim, listen…" I start.

"Katniss! I can't believe it!" Prim says. "I'm so sorry for pouncing on you, I shouldn't have listened in."

"No, no. It's fine," I say, stumbling over my words as the delirium of the morning fogs my mind. I can't think straight, and Prim's exclamation at finding out- Shit.

"Wait what?" I say, shaking my head. "Prim! You weren't meant to know!" I run a hand through my hair.

"Its Peeta's, isn't it?" Prim persists. I fall back onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow.

No. This can't be happening. I didn't want to tell Prim until more of this had been sorted out. Just last night I rejected shouted at my Mom and the baker, rejected Peeta and worked myself into a mess as the night wore on, my head filled with thoughts of my future, my family's future and Peeta's future.

And, although I didn't want to, I could help but worry for the child inside me.

"If you say anything, Prim, to anyone, I swear…" I mumble.

"Katniss, do you really think I would tell anyone anything?" Prim asks me.

"No, Prim… I don't." I tell her.

"I know." Prim says. I can practically hear the smile in her voice.

"Was that the only reason for waking me up so early?" I ask.

"It's half ten, Katniss." Prim says. I lift my head from the pillow.

"What?" I exclaim. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"Mom said you needed some rest." Prim shrugs her shoulders. I climb out from under the blankets.

"Go, Prim. I need to get changed… get into the forest… Gale will be waiting."

"Gale's at the school." Prim acknowledges.

"What?"

"He's helping rebuild it," Prim says, pulling the sheets of Mom's bed straight. "Didn't he tell you?"

"No, err… he did. I forgot." I say,

"Oh." Prim says.

"You go ahead, Prim. I'll make the bed. I'll be out in a minute." I nod my head. Prim smiles, gives me a look, and leaves, closing the door tightly behind her.

I tidy the beds, and then pull on my jeans, a clean shirt and my boots. I braid my hair tightly, twisting my head from side-to-side, feeling strands of my hair pull sharply at my scalp. Once I'm dressed, I head to the kitchen and eat, shovelling the bland lumpy porridge made from tesserae grain into my mouth.

"Prim knows," Mom says softly, bringing in a basket of washing from outside and placing it on the table. I don't look up. "She cried, Katniss. When she found out." At this, I look up.

"She did?"

"Yeah. She said that she was worried and scared."

"Prim never cries."

"She does, but only for the people she loves," Mom smiles. I stare at my breakfast, absorbing this information. "She's a lot like you in that sense."

"Prim is nothing like me."

"You two may not look similar, but I know that you're sister because you care for your family and friends with a huge amount of passion." Mom smiles, and begins folding some of the clothes in the basket.

"Where is she?" I ask.

"Outside with Lady."

"I'm gonna go help down at the school with Gale…" I say, standing up and putting my bowl into the sink. "I'll see you later."

"Be careful, Katniss." Mom says. I stop by the door and pull on my jacket.

"I always am." I tug on one of Prim's golden braids as I pass her.

"Where are you going?" She asks me.

"To the school." I shout over my shoulder.

The walk to the school is quiet. I nod my head to the people I see, but dig my hands into my pockets and try to blend into the background as much as I can. The sound of clanking metal and axes against wood is audible from down the road from the school, and as I get closer I can see how the roof of the school is being quickly repaired. The school will be up and running by next week.

"Hey, Gale!" I shout, ducking under a plank of wood two men are carrying past and hurrying over to my friend.

"Catnip! What are you doing here?" Gale asks, looking up from his work.

"I'm here to help."

"Katniss Everdeen, the girl who refers to this school as a _prison_, wants to help _rebuild_ it?" Gale asks incredulously, raising an eyebrow. Thom chuckles. I scowl at him.

"I can just leave you lot and let you do it yourselves." I say. Gale purses his lips.

"You can help. But don't be a big girl and refuse to help if things get tough."

"Whatever," I scoff, a smirk on my lips. "Needn't I remind you that you screamed when I dumped my game bag on you once?" Thom bursts out laughing at this.

"You didn't!" He asks Gale.

"I didn't scream. I was just surprised." My friend rolls his eyes. I laugh along with Thom.

"Okay, tough guy. What do want me to do?"

"I dunno." Gale shrugs.

"Ask Mr Undersee. He's the one in charge." Thom suggests. I salute the two and walk away, finding Madge's father- the Mayor- standing with some of the builders drafted in to help, gazing up at the roof of the school with a large piece of paper in his hands.

"Miss Everdeen, what are you doing here?" He asks me.

"I thought I could help." I shrug. The Mayor smiles, and rolls the paper up.

"I'm glad you offered," He says, shaking me warmly by the hand. "We need more people to help haul the tiles onto the roof."

"I can do that." I say.

"Good. Follow me." Mayor Undersee walks forward.

* * *

Half an hour later, I find myself standing on the top of a tower of scaffolding that sways and creaks every time someone walks on it. Despite the cold air, I find myself wiping a band of sweat from my forehead and stretching my back. Leaning over to pull buckets of slate tiles from the people below me is tiring work. I straighten up and step back from the edge, only to bump straight into someone. I whip around, just in time to see the person fall forwards through the gap in the roof.

"No!" I shout, lunging forward in and effort to grip the person's shirt. Instead, I fingers grasp at thin air. "Fuck fuck fuckedy fuck." I chant, stepping forward to find out whom I've sent plummeting to the floor of the school's sports hall.

"Katniss?"

"Peeta!" I look over the edge and find Peeta hanging onto one of the wooden beams that had just been replaced. "What are you doing here?" I ask him, my eyes wide. Peeta shifts his hands, holding onto the beam for… well… his life.

"Right now?" Peeta asks, squinting up at me, the sun in his eyes. "Trying not to fall." He grimaces. I blink.

"Oh my God, err… right!" I fluster, stretching my hand down to him. "Gimme your hand!"

"I'm too heavy, " Peeta says. "If you try and pull me up I'll pull you in here with me!" I bend down and secure my hand on Peeta's arm.

"Fucking hell, Catnip. What are you doing?" Gale's voice comes ringing out. I twist my head around.

"Gale! Stop being a sarcastic idiot and help me!" Gale frowns and walks over.

"What did you do?" He asks, catching sigh of Peeta dangling below us.

"I walked into him!"

"Why weren't you looking where you were going?"

"I was, I just didn't see him!"

"Well that was stupid!"

"Don't call me stupid!" I say.

"Hey, hello? Kinda slipping here!" Peeta interrupts us.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I say. Gale helps pull Peeta back onto the scaffolding.

"Are you okay?" I ask Peeta, my hands flapping as Peeta rolls his shoulders.

"I'm fine." He says.

"Thom'll get pissed off if I don't help him," Gale says. "Don't go pushing anyone else off, Catnip. " He jokes.

"You'll be next." I threaten, giving my friend's back the finger. I turn to Peeta and suddenly realise how awkward this situation is. "I'm sorry, Peeta. Are you alright?" I ask him.

"I'm fine, Katniss. No harm done," Peeta shrugs. I look down at my feet. The silence between us stretches on. "Why are you doing this?" Peeta asks.

"Doing what? I ask, refusing to look up at him.

"You could've just ended all this. You could've got rid of the baby and all this wouldn't have happened."

"Shhh!" I hiss, clapping my hand over Peeta's mouth. "You can't say that out loud! What if someone hears?" Peeta pulls my hand away.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. But I need to know." Peeta says, his eyes burning into mine.

"I have my reasons, Peeta." I mutter.

"Meet me, tonight." He says suddenly. I frown

"What?"

"Please, Katniss."

"No," I say, tearing my eyes away from his powerful gaze. "I can't."

"Then please tell me why you think you owe me."

"Because you took a beating to give me that bread. You always trade extra when I come and trade like your Dad does. You've only ever been kind to me," I pause, squeezing my eyes shut. "I can't list all the things that make you a good person. It isn't possible."

"And you think that ruining your life by keeping it will make everything better?" Peeta asks, running his hand through is hair.

"I don't know, Peeta." I say.

"Please Katniss. I can't just pretend like this is all okay."

"And you think I can?" I snap.

"No, Katniss, I don't-"

"Then don't go around accusing me and saying that you're the one getting the short end of the stick!" I exclaim. "Because this stick is shitty, whichever end you get!" With that, I stalk away, leaving Peeta behind.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I pick at my meal later that night.

"If you're just gonna pick at your food, give it to someone else." Mom snarls from the end of the table. The atmosphere between us has been tenser than ever since the night I told everyone I was to be a father.

"Rye?" I ask, pushing my plate along the table to my brother. He grins, his mouth filled with mashed potato and takes my plate.

"Are you okay, son?" Dad asks me.

"Jesus, Farrell. Don't ask _him_ if he's okay." Mom hisses.

"Peeta?" Dad persists, ignoring Mom's jibe.

"Nothing. I'm just not hungry." I answer.

"I heard Katniss was at the school today." Fen pipes up. I nod glumly.

"Who was she fucking this time?" Mom sneers.

"Aymee! Stop it!" Dad frowns.

"She was just helping out." I say.

"With the school? Or your hormonal urges?" Mom adds. I bite my lip. If I loose my temper again, I'll be thrown out.

"She was helping haul tiles up." I explain.

"Good for her." Dad nods. I sigh.

"She pushed with over."

"She what?" Fen asks.

"Yup. I was walking past on the scaffolding and didn't see her. She didn't see me either and walked straight into me and I fell through the roof." Rye bursts out laughing, only to begin coughing and spluttering, his mouth filled with food.

"You're alright, though?" Dad asks.

"Yeah. She and Hawthorne pulled me back up." I say.

"See. You're nothing but a feebly boy who can't get out of a tricky situation without the help of someone else." Mom hisses.

"Mom, Katniss can't pull me up." I grimace, looking up across the table.

"Don't make up excuses for that little… _whore_!" Mom cries, emphasising the word 'whore', knowing I'll get pissed off.

"Mom, she isn't-"

"I wouldn't be surprised if the child was Hawthornes! She's probably just sponging off us!"

"Mom!"

"It's disgusting! All those Seam… people… should be castrated. They're all inbreds! Us Merchants are good people, and now Peeta has spoiled it but sharing DNA with that… _slut_!"

"Aymee!" Dad shouts. The room falls silent.

"May I be excused?" I ask, my hands balled into fists. I've had enough of my mother and her sharp words.

"No. You will not leave until the rest of us are finished." Mom snaps.

"Go ahead, Peeta." Dad tells me, his eyes sad. I stand, push my chair under the table and leave the room.

Once upstairs in my room, I flop down onto my bed and let my tears fall. I can't cry in front of my family. I need to hide my emotion. Boys cry. Men don't. And I need to be a man and sort this out. I need to speak to Katniss. I need her to understand. Without her cooperation, I'll never be able help her. I cry until my eyes are red and raw, my pillow damp. I should've gone after her, demanded that she meet with me. Taken control of the situation and not be thrown off by Katniss' beauty and words and the way her lips moved when she spoke to me. She has no idea. The effect she has on me is catastrophic.

I pull out my sketchpad and lean back against my headboard.

Ever since Mom dumped my pencils into the flames, I haven't been able to draw properly. I just use a pencil from school that it so hard that it tears through the paper of my notebook. My hands have almost healed, except for a few burn marks that haven't healed properly yet. My skin was covered in scars in the first place, so I haven't noticed the new twisting pale lines on my hands. They are still slightly tender though, so I can't wrestle or use the punch bag outside. My heart clenches when I realise. When Katniss' world was shattering because she found that she was carrying my child, Valerie Thread was kissing me.

I've taken to flipping through all my drawings. Drawings of people, drawings of places and drawings of random things. But my favourite drawing by far is one of Katniss. I drew it after she got caught in the rain. She still came to trade with me, but when she turned to walk away, she slipped in the mud and fell; dropping the bread she had just traded. I ran out to help her up, and the look in her eyes was one that was branded into my mind forever. It was a mix of fear, sadness and surprise. I doubt I'll ever forget those eyes.

And today, all I could see was sadness in her eyes, despite her angry words. All that sadness was because of me. And I'll do anything to never let her be sad again, even if it's the last thing I do.


	15. Chapter 15: Hide from the inevitable

**Wow. Over 130 reviews! :') A huge thank you to everyone who has contributed to this story! Despite this being one of the longer chapters I've written in a while, I'm not sure if I like how it went. Hopefully you'll like it, though I'm not sure :/**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Looking back on it, I'm beginning to realise what a total idiot I was by even going to help rebuild the school in the first place. Going to a building site while pregnant was the first thing I didn't think about. What if I and fallen and hurt the baby or myself? How would Peeta have reacted? Surely the cat would've been let out of the bag. Secondly, I should've known that Peeta would've been there.

I hold my head in my hands, my elbows resting on the kitchen table. I can't believe I yelled at Peeta and stormed off. Pushing him over the edge of the roof was bad enough.

I always run away from the things I can't handle.

The look on his face when I started yelling at him. It was a mismatch of pain and disbelief. I sigh, rubbing my palms against my eyes. How could everything have gone so wrong in a matter of just a few days?

Reluctantly, my mind flickers to Gale.

Poor Gale, who's completely unaware of the situation his best friend is in. I wonder how he's going to react. I look down at my stomach.

At around 3 and a half months, I shouldn't be showing. But my thin frame makes my barely-visible bump stick out. My ribs are still visible. My collarbone has shadows beneath it. My wrists stick out from under my skin. Any womanly curves I was supposed to have have never shown. Instead, I'm just a skeleton with a ballooning stomach. It won't take long for people to notice.

It's late at night when Prim gives up on trying to persuade me to eat something.

"I told you, Prim. I'll eat if I'm hungry." I say, pushing away the bowl of stew that's starting to cool and congeal before my very eyes. Prim sighs, standing up from her seat, collecting her Maths book, and moving towards the door.

"Think about the baby." She says softly before exiting the room.

My head falls onto the table and I let a breath out I didn't even realise I was holding. Prim played the baby card. Trying to guilt me into doing something I don't want to do.

"She's right, you know." Mom says. I jump and look up. I didn't even realise that she was there. Mom is standing in the doorway, her bony arms folded over her chest.

"I know she's right, Mom. I'm just not… hungry."

"Peeta was at the school, wasn't he?" Mom asks. I don't answer. "You're going to have to talk to him. And if you don't approach him, you're going to end up bumping into him. At school. In town. Everywhere you go. District 12 isn't a big place, you-"

"I know, Mom. I know!" I yell, my hands flattening against the tabletop. "Do you think that I don't realise that I'll have to face him?"

"Katniss-"

"The look on his face when I shout at him is heartbreaking!"

"You really-"

"I can't go on with my life because I know that he can't get on with his!"

"I understand-"

"And I could live a thousand lifetimes and still not deserve him!"

"Katniss I know!" Mom exclaims, finally shutting me up. "But I didn't know you felt that way." She adds softly. We fall silent; the only sound shattering the quiet is our heavy breathing.

"Felt which way?"

"That you could live a thousand lifetimes and still not deserve him," Mom repeats. "I know you care for him Katniss. I don't know how much… or what type of emotion. But you care."

I don't meet Mom's eyes. She's right, and I know it. Ever since I was eleven, when Peeta threw me that life-saving bread, I had kept an eye on the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, kind-hearted boy.

Of course I caught him staring. Of course I noticed him hiding behind the banister of the stairs, watching when I came round to trade with his father. I noticed him, even when he thought that I hadn't.

And now, in a twisted series of events, I'm carrying his child. It feels like a game. A game we can't escape from.

"Schools back in session tomorrow." I finally say, deciding to ignore my mother's words.

"You're going."

"I know," I nod. "You can go. I'm just gonna… eat something and then go to bed."

"Please eat something." Mom says. I run my hand through my hair and say nothing. Mom leaves after a minute or so.

The next morning I open my eyes, cover my mouth and race to the bathroom. Gripping the toilet seat, I throw up, my chest heaving, my skin clammy.

"Katniss?" A frightened Prim calls. "What's happening?"

"She's okay, it's just morning sickness!" Mom exclaims, running towards me with wide eyes. She drops to her knees beside me and rubs her hand over my back.

I sit upright, leaning back against the bathtub.

"Primrose, can you get some ginger please?" Mom asks.

"Roots or crystals?" My sister asks, standing up.

"Either. Either will do." Mom nods.

"When will this be over?" I groan, clutching at my stomach. Morning sickness normally starts within the first week of pregnancy. Didn't you feel ill or anything?"

"No." I answer.

"And it normally ends around 3 months."

"Then surely it should've stopped by now?" I frown. "Why hasn't it?"

"Sometimes you can have sickness all through the nine months… it's different for each woman." Mom says. I grasp my spinning head in my hands, breathing shallowly through my mouth. Prim comes back in with the ginger.

"Chew on this, Katniss." She says, handing the light brown roots to me.

"This should ease the nausea." Mom nods. My jaw aching, the taste of vomit lingering in my mouth, I chew dutifully on the ginger. Prim brings me a glass of water and I gulp it down, desperately trying to wash the taste away.

Pretty soon the nausea fades into a dull ache in my stomach. I climb to my feet, wave away Prim's fussing hands and Mom's suggestions of maybe not going to school today, and disappear into the bedroom to braid my hair and change out of my pyjamas. I'm going to school no matter what. I'm sick of staying inside.

"Are you sure, Katniss?" Mom asks.

"Yeah," I nod, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I'll be okay."

"I don't want you just to go to school for the heck of it. You're pregnant, Katniss. I don't want you or the baby getting ill." Mom says. I bite my lip. I still flinch at any mention of the… thing… growing inside of me. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea? Maybe Peeta was right- I should've just taken the Pennyroyal and forgotten that this ever happened.

"I'm pregnant, Mom. Not dead." I say, an apologetic smile on my lips.

"Go on, then," My mother says after a while. "I'll see you later."

"Bye!" Prim says, before disappearing through the door. I follow close behind, inhaling the fresh November air.

Prim babbles on about Lady and Buttercup all the way to school, swinging her arms by her sides, her golden braid shining. But when we reach the school, she grips my hand.

"Will you be okay?" She asks.

"Prim, I'll be fine. And if there are any problems, you know to just walk home with Gale, Vick and Rory." I say. Prim smiles and run towards her friends.

I spend the rest of the day wondering where Peeta is. He doesn't show up. During lunch, I scour the cafeteria for the familiar blue eyes and golden locks, but to no avail.

"Who are you looking for?" Madge asks me as we walk down the corridor to the last lesson of the day.

"No-one." I answer, twisting the end of my braid anxiously.

Where is he?

As the teacher drones on about the history of Panem, I find myself staring out of the window, missing Peeta's presence in the seat next to mine. I blink. _What?_

I'm missing Peeta?

Shaking away _those_ thoughts, I tap my fingernails against the wooden desk in front of me, glancing at the clock repeatedly until the lesson finally draws to a close. I let the crowd of students flooding towards the doors push me out of the school building. I've gone through various situations in my head as to why Peeta isn't at school. Did his Mom beat him? I shudder at the thought of what Mrs Mellark could have done to him.

Surely his father would've protected his son? What if the kindly baker wasn't at the bakery? How would Peeta have gotten away? Maybe he did get away? I shake my head. I'm going crazy.

Looking up, I blink in surprise. Standing by the school gates, his hands in his pockets, is Peeta.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Where is she? I've been waiting outside the school gates for what seems like hours.

Scanning the crowds, I search for the shining dark braid that I'm so fond of. I can't see her.

And then, flooding down the school steps along with the rest of our History class, I spot her. She spots me too, her grey eyes narrowing. Shit. She looks pissed.

"Where have you been?" She exclaims, drawing the attention of several people.

"I can explain-" I start, but Katniss marches towards me, jabbing a finger into my chest.

"I've been looking for you all day!" She hisses. "I'm sorry I yelled at you… and almost killed you… but I want to talk to you-"

"Katniss! People are staring!" I tell her. She whirls around, her braid almost smacking me in the face. Her eyes widen when she sees the small crowd of people that are watching her yell at me.

"Come with me." I say, taking her hand and pulling her along. She resists, digging her heels into the dry ground.

"Why?" Katniss asks, pursing her lips.

"Katniss, you've been wondering where I've been all day, and now you wont follow me?"

"I was told never to go anywhere with a stranger." She replies.

"Considering what's happened, we're anything but strangers…" I say, watching as Katniss' cheeks redden and she squirms.

"Katniss?" I look up over Katniss' shoulder. Prim.

"Go walk with Gale, Prim," Katniss says. "I need to talk to Peeta." Prim looks up at me, her eyes accusing. I release Katniss' hand. Does Prim know? She must. Despite not looking very similar to her older sister, her piercing blue eyes sure know how to make you feel uncomfortable, just like Katniss.

"Come on, Catnip." Another deeper voice joins in. Shit. Hawthorne. Katniss holds her head in her hands.

"Why doesn't the entire District find out all at once?" She mutters sarcastically.

"I'm going to the bakery, Gale." She speaks up. Gale's accusing grey eyes narrow, and he gazes from me to Katniss, and back again.

Seam eyes have always seemed slightly unnerving to me. Merchant eyes, big, round and baby blue, don't have the same affect.

"Why?" Hawthorne asks.

"I'm… err…" Katniss turns to me.

"We're partners in the Games. She's coming round to do… homework." I explain.

"And you couldn't do homework by yourselves?" Gale challenges. I roll my eyes.

"No. We can't," Katniss snaps. "You're not in charge of me, Gale."

With that, Katniss pats Prim on the shoulder. "I'll see you tonight." I hear her whisper, before she turns and walks away. I follow quickly, watching the sway of her hips and the- No. Stop. This is a serious matter and you're focussing on her body.

I catch up with myself and find that Katniss is the one leading the way to the bakery.

"Your family isn't home, are they?" She asks me.

"I don't think so. Mom's probably at Mrs Stark's house."

"But isn't she across the road from the bakery?" Katniss asks.

"Yeah, but if we're careful, she wont see us." I say.

We reach the bakery and I take Katniss round the back. I reach my hands out when we get to the edge of cobbled street at the back of my house.

"What?" Katniss asks, staring at my outstretched hands.

"It's muddy," I say. "I don't want you to slip." Katniss looks at me for a second, before taking my hands. I help her over the mud.

"Thanks, Peeta." She says.

"S'okay." I shrug. "Wait here a second." I say, before unlocking the door of the kitchen and stepping inside. "Dad?" I call. "Fen?" Pause. "Rye?" Pause. "Mom?" I'm met with silence. Good.

"Peeta?" I hear Katniss call from outside.

"No-one's home. Dad must have roped Fen and Rye in to help deliver stuff. I'm meant to look after the shop." I tell her.

"Oh, I don't want to disturb your chores." Katniss says, stepping into my kitchen, twisting the strap of her bag in her fingers.

"It's fine, really." I say, closing the kitchen door behind my guest.

_What next?_ I think to myself. Actually, it's quite awkward, just Katniss and I standing in my kitchen, unsure of who should speak first, who should do what.

"Do you want a drink? Something to eat?" I blurt out.

"Water, if that's alright." Katniss says.

"Sure, sure," I nod. Christ. "Sit down, please." I offer, pulling out a stool from the table as I hurry to grab a glass. The kitchen is too quiet. I take a deep breath and turn back, handing Katniss her water.

"Thanks," She says, taking a sip before placing it on the floral tablecloth adorning the table. She pulls her bag from her shoulder and lets it fall to the floor. I flounder. "Are you gonna sit?" Katniss asks eventually.

"Ah, yes." I nod, before sitting down opposite Katniss.

"Where were you today?" She asks, crossing her legs and leaning an elbow on the table.

"Well, I was helping Dad with the morning rush."

"And the morning rush took all day?" Katniss asks. She looks down. "I'm sorry. I'm being a whiny bitch aren't I?"

"No. Not at all," I shake my head. "You have every right to be pissed."

"Please, Peeta. Tell me where you were." Katniss says.

Inside, I'm screaming at myself. Why did I bring her here? This was the wrong thing to do. Of all the things I could've done to speak to her, I did this.

"I was here." I offer. Katniss frowns, tracing her finger over the condensation on her glass.

"I figured that much." She says.

"Mom just got angry and… and you know what? It doesn't matter." I say. Katniss looks up, surprised.

"Peeta-"

"You should go, Katniss. We'll talk some other time."

"Peeta!" Katniss interrupts me. She bites her lip, her forehead creased into deep lines. "What did she do?"

"Who?"

"Don't play stupid."

"It's nothing." I say. Katniss stands, putting her hand on mine.

"Please, Peeta," She whispers. "I know you may not think I care, but I do."

"You do?" I ask, my voice unsure. She nods.

"Did she hurt you?"

"Nothing bad. The usual." I shrug.

"The usual?" Katniss asks, her voice high-pitched. "This is a normal thing?"

I stare at her hand on mine, my skin buzzing at where it's touching hers. My heart almost stops when she begins running her hands over my arm.

"W-What are you doing?" I ask.

"You'll wince eventually," She says, her fingers pressing into my shoulder. I freeze. She moves around, pressing her fingers over my shoulders. Despite my attempts at hiding it, I wince when she presses into the middle of my back, in between my shoulder blades. "Aha!" Katniss says. I stand quickly, facing Katniss. She stumbles forward slightly, not expecting my sudden movements.

"I brought you here to talk about you." I say. Katniss rolls her eyes.

"Peeta. What did she do?" Katniss asks.

"Nothing, Katniss. I'm fine."

"I'm warning you, Peeta." Katniss raises an eyebrow and steps forward, her hands out in front of her. "Let me see."

"No, Katniss-"

"Are you really going to deny the girl carrying your child something?" Katniss asks. My mouth falls slack.

"That isn't fair." I say. Katniss smirks.

"Come on." She encourages. I pull my shirt off, turn around and wait for Katniss' reaction.

"Oh, Peeta!" She gasps. Her cold fingers graze over my back. "She did this to you?" She asks in a soft voice.

"I'm fine, Katniss." I say.

"How much does it hurt?"

"I've had worse." I shrug. Katniss is silent. I turn around.

"This is my fault." She stammers, her eyes wide and kitten-grey.

"No, Katniss. This is my fault." I shake my head, pulling my shirt back on, covering the bright red cuts lacing my back, wincing as my skin stretches. My heart breaks when I see that Katniss is just slowly shaking her head, her hand over her mouth.

"Peeta-"

"Don't cry," I plead. "Please don't cry." Katniss bites her lips, her eyes sad, before flinging herself toward me, crying into my chest. Startled, I raise my hands, hesitant as to where I should put them. I settle for placing them on the middle of her back.

"I'm so sacred," Katniss sobs, her voice taking on a tone of confession. "I never wanted children. And now this has happened and I don't know what I'm gonna do when it arrives," She grips my shirt in her tiny hands. "How am I gonna afford to buy diapers? I'll have to use cloth instead and then I need to make sure it has enough to eat a-and clothes and a c-crib."

"Hey, I'm not gonna give up on you," I tell her, pulling her shaking form close. "I'll help. You're not gonna have to do this by yourself."

"But it's m-my responsibility," Katniss hiccups. "I can't burden you. I can't rely on you."

"Uh, as the… err… father, I think I share an equal amount of responsibility," I chuckle. "It takes two to tango." I add. Katniss snorts.

"That's what Abernathy said." She snuffles.

"What?" I ask.

"I was at school… and he said that. That's how the whole idea of me possibly being pregnant came into my mind." She says.

"Thank god he did." I say.

"That would've been one hell of a surprise." Katniss giggles. I laugh along with her. Katniss' juddering cries slow down, but she makes no effort to move away. I rub her back in what I hope is comforting motion.

"Wait. Did you know that we…err… you know…" I trail off. Awkward.

"What are you talking about?" Katniss asks, her words muffled against my chest.

"After the party… we- you knew?" Katniss pulls away.

"Oh, _that,_" She says, her cheeks pink. I nod. "Well, I woke up the next morning and kinda ran away." She says, not meeting my eyes as she folds her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry." I say. Katniss shakes her head.

"You don't need to be sorry." She says.

"I do. If it weren't for me you wouldn't be here. But I still don't understand why you kept it."

"He or she." Katniss says, a small smile brightening her saddened features.

"Alright, why did you keep he or she?"

"I have my reasons." Katniss shrugs. I sigh.

"I sure you do, but I want to know what those reasons are." I say, frustrated. Katniss wavers, the cogs turning in her head.

"I don't know. Mom gave me the Pennyroyal and I was on the brink of swallowing it, but I just remembered what my Mom had said- about this baby being not just half of me, but also half of you.

"And just thinking of how kind you've always been to me- to everyone- despite how things might be behind closed doors, made me think that killing this baby would be like killing you." Katniss releases a big breath, looking up at me expectantly.

"You didn't have to do that." I say.

"I know I didn't, but I did." Katniss states.

"You told anyone yet?" I question.

"My Mom, obviously, but Prim overheard when you came round with your Dad."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I told my Dad that we should wait, but he insisted." I apologise.

"Nah, it's probably best that we got the first meeting over with." Katniss says.

"What about Gale? And everyone else?" I ask.

"I dunno," Katniss sighs, sitting back on her stool, resting her head on her palm. "I guess when I feel like it. Or they'll see the melon that's replaced my stomach, and guess it for themselves," I grin. Katniss rolls her eyes. "How'd your family react?" She asks.

"Mixed reactions," I say. "Mom's gonna be fuming for the rest of eternity. Dad's disappointed in me- thought he taught me well enough to keep it in my pants," Katniss blushes again. "Fen and Rye? Well, I'm sure they'll get over it. You'll have to get used to sarcasm from both my brothers."

"You'll have to get used to death glares from Prim." Katniss grins.

"I thought she was giving me a funny look at the school gates," I observe, Katniss chuckles. "Is she pissed?"

"Pissed, confused, surprised, excited," Katniss recites. "They're just a few of the words I could use to describe my little sister's reactions."

"I don't want another bossy Everdeen in my life." I laugh. Katniss kicks my shin playfully.

"I'm not bossy."

"Sure, sure."

"You know Gale's probably gonna kill you when he finds out." Katniss says glumly.

"I know."

"I'll tell him not to. That it's my fault."

"Like he'll believe that."

"He's just stubborn."

"Yeah…" I say, raising my eyebrows.

"Among other things." Katniss adds.

"I guess we're going to have to face a lot in the next few months." I say, tracing the swirling pattern of the tablecloth with my finger.

"Oh, _shit_." Katniss hisses. I look up, frowning as I take in Katniss' wide eyes.

"What?"

"By the looks of it, your whole family is back!" Katniss says.

"What?" I exclaim, standing and spying Dad's dark blue cap through the window of the kitchen door.

"What do I do?"

"Get under the table!" I instruct.

"What?" Katniss cries.

"Just do it!" I say. Katniss ducks down and hides beneath the table. She's barely visible below the draping tablecloth. "I'll distract them." I tell her, just in time for Dad to burst into the room.

"Hey Peeta." He greets me.

"Uh, hey Dad." I reply.

"Your mother has got a headache. Mind getting her pills?" Dad continues.

"Yeah, sure… I'll do that." I nod. Fuck. How do I get rid of him?

"Are you alright?" Dad asks me.

"What? Uh-huh. Yeah. I'm fine." I say.

"You sure?"

"Yup." I say. Crap. Dad narrows his eyes.

"Okay," He says. "I'm gonna help open the shop. Don't forget about the pills."

"Yeah, I'll get 'em," I smile. Dad pauses at the doorway. "What?" I ask.

"Are you hiding something?" He asks.

"No. Why would you think that?" I ask. Fantastic. I've been reduced to a fumbling mess.

"You seem a bit jumpy."

"Do I?" I ask, letting out a fake laugh. Dad shakes his head and turns.

"But Peeta, a much better place to hide Miss Everdeen would be in the pantry, rather than under the table." Dad chuckles.

"Uh-" I flounder. I hear a resolute 'shit' from under the table.

"Nice to- partially- see you, Katniss." Dad nods towards the table.

"Yup, you too, Mr Mellark." Katniss' disembodied voice replies. Dad leaves the room and I groan.

"Jesus, Peeta!" Katniss laughs. "You're normally so composed."

"I was under pressure!" I say.

"Whatever, baker boy. Help me up." Katniss says, poking her head out from the tablecloth. I take her outstretched hands and direct her to the door.

"I'll see you… err... around?" I offer.

"Sure," Katniss grins, her eyes sparkling- all the sadness from earlier gone. "And your Dad is right. The pantry would be a much better place to hide."


	16. Chapter 16: Mood Swings

**Yet again, another big thank you to all the reviews, follows and favourites to my story! It's amazing! Thank you to** jenjenjeng **fro your review, I wish I could've replied! **I** hope everyone had a great New Year, I forgot to say it in the last chapter :3 Anyway, on with the games…**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

"Miss Everdeen, have you been paying attention to anything I've been saying?"

…

"Miss Everdeen!" I jump, the noise of a ruler snapping against my desk bringing me out of my reverie.

"Pardon?" I mumble, looking up.

"Can you answer the question?" The teacher asks, folding his arms and staring down at me with a look of disdain. My cheeks burn as I look up at the blackboard, feeling the eyes of the class on me.

"Uh, no. I'm sorry." I shake my head.

"Why aren't you listening?" The teacher continues.

"I don't know."

"Listen Miss Everdeen."

"Okay. " I nod my head.

My bag is too heavy. It's making my shoulder ache. The flour bag we were given weeks ago has been sitting under my bed, collecting dust all this time. It's about time that Peeta takes his turn. I've seen people at school swapping flour sacks, but it never crossed my mind that Peeta and I should've done the same. It wasn't until Prim found it while searching for a pair of shoes that I was reminded. And now it's weighing me down.

Thankfully, the lesson continues. I lean back in my seat, resting my hands on my stomach. I swear it's grown a huge amount overnight. I don't remember it being this big last night at the bakery. Continuously, I've had to remind myself that it's my small frame that's making my bump seem big. On a normal woman, the bump would barely be visible, maybe just big enough to cause their stomach to curve. I'm used to my belly being straight flat down. I'm used to have no breasts. And now? And now I'm dreading the next five/six months.

I move my hands, avoiding any suspicions by holding my stomach. All day, my head has been spinning, my stomach has been aching and clenching. I can't concentrate properly. Mom gave me ginger roots and mint tea, but nothing could ease my nausea. Prim handed me a bundle of lavender to put in my locker, and told me to drink lots and eat something while we were walking to school, but so far, I haven't been able to stomach anything. I walked past a group of boys, who were sharing a bag of something (that to me smelt strongly of egg) and had to fight the urge to throw up right there in the corridor.

Surely _morning_ sickness should be reserved for _mornings_ only?

Apparently not.

I grimace, wishing we were allowed to open the windows. Watching the trees outside sway in the calm zephyr is agonising, knowing that behind the glass I'm sitting behind is fresh air, and not the air smelling of BO and century-old textbooks.

Coal Sciences drags on for another half hour before the bell rings and lunch starts. I head to my locker and bury my head inside it; inhaling the rich smell of lavender from the bunch Prim gave me. It's made my entire locker smell, and I have to admit, the purple flowers have helped ease my dizzy head. I don't know why I'm being affected so badly. Why me?

The chattering and slamming of locker doors seems extra loud and I squeeze my eyes shut. I reckon I could stay with my head between my History book and my Language book all day. But eventually I pull myself together, take a deep breath of the lavender-y air in my locker and move on to the cafeteria.

As usual, Madge is waiting at our usual table. I sit down with a sigh and drop my head onto the plastic surface between us.

"Bad day?" Madge asks.

"Bad everything." I groan in response.

"You wanna strawberry?" Madge asks. I lift my head, my eyes zoning in on the small tub of bright red strawberries Madge is holding in my direction.

"Do you mind?" I ask.

"Nah," Madge says, shaking her head. "Go ahead."

"Thanks." I smile, taking the tub and picking out one of the soft fruits. Huh. Strawberries have never been one of my favourite foods, just a nice thing, but now I can't get enough of them.

"Err… Katniss?" Madge asks.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"You super-hungry today or somethin'?" She says, raising her eyebrows with a grin on her lips.

"What?" I frown, looking down at the tub. It's empty. My mouth falls open. I've eaten all of the strawberries. "Oh, Madge! I'm so sorry! I didn't realise- I wouldn't-"

"Katniss, it's fine." Madge says with an amused smile.

"I just couldn't stop eating them." I say, surprised.

"Did you even breath?" Madge laughs, her cheeks pink.

"Madge, I'm sorry." I repeat.

"I eat too many strawberries anyway." Madge grins. A small smile works it's way onto my face, and I end up laughing along with my friend.

"You want some of my lunch?" I ask, pushing the bag of fruit and nuts towards Madge.

"Sure, but I won't eat all of it." Madge teases. I roll my eyes.

"Honestly Madge, I'll make sure to trade strawberries with you for a lower price."

"Katniss, I don't mind. Stop saying you're sorry!" Madge insists, popping a wrinkled walnut piece into her mouth. I relent in apologising, and listen as Madge chats about various things.

My eyes wonder around the cafeteria as Madge speaks. I don't' really take in anything around me until I catch a pair of shockingly blue eyes staring into my slate grey ones. Peeta. I flash him a small smile, watching as his lips turn upwards into a full-scale grin.

"Who's got you smiling?" Madge pipes up from beside me.

"No-one." I say hastily, breaking eye contact with Peeta.

"Peeta Mellark?" Madge asks. "He's still looking at you."

"No he isn't."

"Yeah he is," Madge says. "Look," Even with the voice in my head telling me not to look, I let my eyes meet his again. Madge was right. He is indeed still staring. "Whoa, sparks are flying!" Madge says.

"Shut up." I say.

"Seriously, you smile when you look at him." Madge tells me. I look at the Mayor's daughter.

"Whatever."

"Fine, don't believe me." Madge huffs. I pick up another piece of fruit and glance up at Peeta. He raises his hand in a wave, opens his mouth to mouth something to me, but is pulled away when Valerie Thread presses her lips to his. My eyes widen and I look away.

"See. We're _just_ partners in the Games." I scowl. Madge looks up and around at the bakers son.

"Ohhhh…" She says, her lips a perfect 'o'. "Sorry." She mutters.

"It's alright." I say, though my cheeks are flaming.

Valerie kissed him! My head replays their kiss again and again, and it just winds me up even further. How could he sit there and let her kiss him? I can't look back. I won't look back. He didn't push her away. He didn't do anything. My heart clenches. He has the audacity to kiss another woman when the girl carrying his child is sitting just across the room?

The bell rings to signal the end of lunch and I stand, pulling the flour sack out of my bag.

"You've still got that thing?" Madge asks. "I switched mine with Mitch yesterday."

"I've had it this entire time," I grumble. "It's defiantly Peeta's turn now."

Madge and I walk down the aisle between the rows of tables, and I pause when we reach the Merchant's table, which is made up of several tables pushed together.

"Hey, Madge." Mitch says.

"Hey." Madge blushes.

"It's your turn," I tell Peeta, summoning as much spite into my words as I can. "I hope I'm not ruining anything for you." Peeta stares at me with wide eyes.

"Katniss, wait!" He says, trying to get up from his seat. I spin around and storm off, Madge following close behind.

"Jesus, Katniss!" She says, pulling at my arm to make me slow down. "What's up with you?"

"It's nothing." I mutter, heading for my locker.

"It's obviously something," Madge frowns, sniffing the lavender in my locker. "Lavender?" She asks.

"I like the smell." I lie.

"Anyway," Madge shakes her head. "What's the deal with you?"

"There is no deal." I say, blinking rapidly and scrubbing my hands over my eyes.

"You're crying!" Madge says. I wrinkle my nose and put my books into my locker.

"Leave it, Madge. You don't understand!" I say. Madge blinks, taken aback at my sudden outburst. I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm not feeling well, and there's a lot going on at the moment."

"You know I'm here for you."

"I know," I say. "But this isn't something I want to discuss."

"Is it to do with Peeta?"

"I guess you could say that." I say, my sob caught up with a chuckle.

"Well, I'll leave you two to sort it out, whatever it is." Madge says.

"Thanks." I smile.

"No problem," Madge replies, her eyes searching mine. "Now come on. We should head to Gym."

* * *

I pull my shirt over my head and swap it for the tee we're required to wear during Gym classes. A pair of shorts adorn my legs, and I tie my ratty old pair of sneakers tightly onto my feet. I straighten up, retying my braid, when I feel a pair of eyes on me. Looking to my left, I find Madge watching me.

"What?" I ask her.

"Nothing, just thinking." Madge shrugs, tying her golden hair into a ponytail.

Once we're in the newly repaired hall, Coach Marr begins setting up a game. Clutching at my stomach, I groan as a fresh wave of nausea washes over me. At lunch it was just a dull ache, but now it's back and making my head spin so badly my vision is blurring.

"Hey, Katniss. You're green." Madge says.

"I just need to sit down." I mumble, heading to the side of the hall and sitting down on one of the creaky wooden benches.

"Have you eaten anything else today?"

"Except for fruit and nuts?" I ask. Madge nods. "Nope."

"What about yesterday?"

"I haven't eaten for ages- that isn't the point. It isn't hunger making me feel bad."

"Is it PMS?" Madge whispers. I blush.

"Hell no."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know. I just feel sick," I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. "I'm fine Madge, don't worry."

Madge bites at her thumb, glancing worriedly at me. I try not to move, but when Coach swaps teams and I have to get up to play, I find that I just feel worse. I stand in position in the corner of the pitch, far away from the net, and watch my teammates play.

"Everdeen! Get in there!" Coach shouts. I look up, finding Madge watching me from the other side of the pitch, and step forward- Right into Peeta. Damn, I seem to have a habit of not looking where I'm going.

"Sorry- Oh. Hey." Peeta says.

"I'm not talking to you." I say, moving away from him.

"I need to explain, Katniss. Please. It wasn't what it looked liked!" Peeta insists.

"Oh please!" I hiss. "She was all over you and you didn't do a thing!"

"No, listen-"

"No, _you_ listen," I say. "If you're with Valerie, you could've at least told me, considering the situation."

"I'm not with Valerie!" Peeta tells me. I roll my eyes. "I told her the first time to back off, and you didn't see me push her away in the cafeteria-"

"_The first time_?" I cry. Peeta backtracks.

"Oh, Jesus Christ…" He mutters, running his hand through his tousled hair. I let out a deep breath and place my hands on my hips, my belly aching _again_. "Katniss, you don't look too good." Peeta observes.

"Fuck off," I growl, quietly. "While you were making out with Valerie, I was being plagued by morning sickness."

"Morning sickness?" Peeta asks, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Yeah, it's one of the side effects carrying a bastard."

"Hey, that isn't fair-"

"No. You know what isn't fair?" I ask. Peeta stares at me, wounded.

"Coach!" He says, stepping forward. "Katniss needs to go to the nurse. She isn't looking good."

"Shut up you idiot-"

"Katniss, I'm trying to help you. Will you stop yelling at me for just a few seconds?" Peeta asks. I glare at him.

"You feeling ill Everdeen?" Coach Marr asks. He seems to have a problem with first names.

"A little." I say.

"Alright Mellark, take her to the nurse." Coach nods. Peeta grabs my arm and hauls me away. Madge watches with wide eyes. I roll my eyes in her direction just as Peeta pushes the door to the hallway open, and we stumble into the quiet corridor.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

"What is your problem?" Katniss asks me, her grey eyes stormy.

"I know that all came out wrong," I say. "But Valerie kissed me the night you found out that you were pregnant."

"Shh!" Katniss snaps. "Not out loud!"

"Sorry, sorry," I say, holding my hands up in the air. "But I pushed her away. I told her not to do it again."

"But she did do it again. How many times Peeta?" Katniss snarls.

"I can't believe how childish your reacting!" I exclaim.

"How would you like me to react Peeta? Would you like me to say 'No, sure. You go kiss whoever you want!'"

"No!" I yell, my voice echoing in the empty corridor. Katniss jumps at my voice. "I don't expect you to say that. I expect you to be pissed off. But I didn't think you'd act like this!"

Katniss whirls around, her braid smacking me in the face, and runs down the corridor. I follow her up a flight of stairs, only stopping when she disappears into the girl's bathroom. I pace up at down outside the door.

"I'm coming in!" I say, pushing the door open. Thankfully it's empty. I spot Katniss' foot sticking out from one of the open cubicles and hesitantly step forward, only to find her retching into the toilet.

"Go away." She coughs.

"I didn't know," I say softly, crouching down beside her and pulling her braid of the way. "I'm sorry. I pushed her away and told her not to do it again, I really did. She doesn't listen, obviously," Katniss' back tenses, and she retches again. I wince at the sound. "How bad is it?" I ask her.

"Like PMS but worse."

"I don't know what PMS feels like." I whisper.

"Imagine someone stabbing you repeatedly." Katniss grumbles, sitting back and sighing. I help her up.

"If I had known, I would've done something. You know I wouldn't kiss another girl." Katniss looks up at me weakly.

"I'm sorry," She mumbles. "I shouldn't have yelled. Or cursed. Or been so bitchy."

"I deserved it, I guess." I shrug.

"No, Peeta. You didn't." Katniss says.

"This is gonna get worse isn't it?" I ask her heavily.

"Yup," Katniss grimaces.

"You should go to the nurse."

"I'm not going to the nurse. How do I explain to her what has happened? I'm sure she'd keep it to her self." Katniss says sarcastically.

"You should eat something. And have something to drink."

"As long as it's not anything to do with egg. I fancy cheese though." Katniss sighs.

"I'm afraid I haven't got any cheese, but I do have some food in my bag." I offer.

"I can't take you food."

"I've got too much food." I wait, watching as Katniss mulls it over.

"Fine." She says eventually. I smile and we head to the changing rooms.

Watching Katniss eat is heartbreaking. I sit there, leaning against the wire separating the bench from the one next to it; my eyes wide as Katniss tucks into a sandwich filled with fruit preserves.

"You're pretty hungry, aren't you?" I ask her. Katniss looks up.

"I don't need your pity." She mumbles, her mouth full of food.

"Katniss, I'm not pitying you…" She gives me a withering look. "But you need to eat."

"I know," She says. "But I haven't been hunting in a while. I haven't been feeling up to it."

"You're welcome to have food from the bakery-"

"I'm not excepting handouts." Katniss says stubbornly. I look from the sandwich she's almost finished and to her face. She looks at the floor.

"You did once before." I remind her. Her cheeks pale.

"That was different."

"I know. But please don't think of it as pity or charity. I just want to help you."

"No, Peeta. I'll be- we'll be fine."

The room falls silent and I offer Katniss a drink of water from the bottle I've brought with me. I can't help but notice how her cheeks have begun to hollow like they do every winter. Her clothes are tired, and pretty soon they'll be hanging off the skeletal body that the cold weather brings. I hate seeing her that way, when I can look forward to going home to a roof over my head and a meal on the table.

"What's happened to you?" I ask her.

"Huh?"

"Last night, you were crying in my arms. And today you're snapping at me." Katniss sighs, her eyes sad.

"I don't know. I guess it's a mix of morning sickness and confusion."

"Are you still scared?" I ask her. She looks up at me and nod. "I'm scared too, don't worry. I keep worrying about what my brothers think of me. I know that Dad's tryin' to hide his disappointment. Mom's just angry." I feel Katniss' hand squeeze mine.

"It'll be okay."

"I'm here for you." I blurt, instantly regretting it. Katniss stares at me, and I think I've pushed whatever relationship we've begun to build up over the edge, but Katniss' grey eyes soften and she smiles.

"Thank you." She says quietly.

"Marry me, Katniss." I add after a long moment of silence.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You don't want this. I don't think I want this. This is only because it would save whatever dignity with have left." Katniss says bitterly, standing up.

"Katniss- I…"

"It's a no. I'm sorry Peeta. Thank you for the sandwich." Katniss says, her eyes swimming with tears, before she turns and runs out of the changing room, leaving me sitting alone on the cold hard bench.

Yet again, I've put a rut between us. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere.


	17. Chapter 17: Prim Means Business

**As usual, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited! Sorry about the wait, I've been doing my exams this week and had to revise :) Sorry about Gale in this chapter (and for the whole story). I'm not a Gale-hater, I love him to bits, but he's such a bitch. It's fun to write about him in a mean sense. Don't hate me! ;) On with the story…**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Marry me Katniss.

_Marry me Katniss._

_**Marry me Katniss.**_

What?

No matter what I do, I can't stop replaying Peeta's surprise proposal. It came out of nowhere, it seemed. When he and his father came over to speak with us, I refused any ideas of marriage. I'm sixteen. I'm pregnant. Haven't I done enough to ruin lives already? Apparently it isn't the case.

My reaction to Peeta's proposal was foolish. I knew as I ran away that I should've stayed- should've spoken to him and voiced my opinions of marriage. But I was so bewildered that I didn't know what else to do. Fight or flight. I chose flight. Again.

I flee the school after grabbing my belongings from the changing room and my locker, ignoring the shouts of the hall monitor that spots me dashing towards the school gates.

"Hey!" He yells. "School aint over for another twenty minutes!"

I race towards the Seam, not fully understanding where I'm running to. I find myself in the meadow and lie down in the long grass, staring blankly up at cold blue December sky. This time last year, I was thinking about whether I would be able to afford Prim hair ribbons for Christmas this year, and would Gale and I be able to catch enough game to make it through the harsh District 12 winter?

This year's different. Now I'm a few days off being four months pregnant with the baker's child and considering my engagement to him.

How time flies…

In my head, I try and make a list of the pros and cons of a possible marriage to Peeta. Pros are that it would save both our families from becoming pariahs. A marriage to Peeta would mean that I had someone to help me, someone to fall back on. I assume we'd move into a house together, which means that I'd have a place to go. I know he'd be a good and honest spouse, but I don't think I can be good and honest back. I'd only drag him down. I'd only make him miserable.

I struggle to come up with many cons, the biggest being that I'd be throwing away my life. My fate was sealed the night of the party, in Peeta's bed. Living in such a small district, were everyone knows nearly everyone, means that if I had this child and didn't have anything to do with it, I'd watch him or her growing up in the Orphan's Home, and I can't do that. Everyone knows that the poor children aren't looked after. They're malnourished, beaten, unloved. At least raising the child as my own would mean it would be cared for. To what extent, I'm unsure.

Having the child and raising it myself, but not allowing Peeta to have anything to do with it would mean having a gut wrenching guilt hanging over me like a black cloud. Everyone needs bread; even those who make their own from tesserae grain buy from the bakery. I would see Peeta and his family whenever I visited. Facing him would be impossible. Surely it would become easier with time, but as our child grew, he or she would ask questions. Ask who their father was. Either I'd have to tell them, or they'd find out themselves. And what if the child looks exactly like Peeta? Blonde curls, shockingly blue eyes, and a mouth that spun gold? People would talk. People would figure it out.

I sigh, resting my hands on my stomach and closing my eyes. My bump has grown. I've already stopped wearing certain items of clothing, fearing that it'll make it obvious to anyone watching close enough. Pretty soon it's going to be obvious. Gale will see. Madge will see. Everyone will see.

"Katniss? What are you doing out here? It's cold!" I open my eyes and jump when I find Peeta leaning over me, his eyes wide, and his hands deep in his pockets.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I ask him. How didn't I hear him coming?

"I came after you. I wanted to apologise."

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now." I mutter.

"You can't stay out here, Katniss. It's December. You'll freeze." Peeta crouches down in the damp grass.

"I'm not cold." I mutter, ignoring the icy chill rolling through me. I was so deep in thought that I didn't feel the cold seeping into my body.

"Take my coat."

"No."

"Katniss, I don't want you or the baby getting ill." Peeta persists.

"I'm fine," I snap. Peeta sighs. I wait for him to walk away, closing my eyes. A squeak bursts from my mouth when I feel Peeta's hands snaking around my waist and under my knees, struggling when he lifts me from the ground. "_What are you doing?" _I hiss. "Put me down!"

"I told you to take my coat, and you didn't. So I'm taking you back to your place so you don't freeze to death out here." Peeta says. I push against his chest.

"Peeta!" I cry. "Let me go!"

"No." Peeta shakes his head, walking forward as I squirm.

"For fucks sake…" I mutter, a scowl settling on my lips. "How the hell are you even carrying me?" I ask. Peeta looks down at me.

"You weigh barely anything. The hundred-pound sacks of flour I carry at the bakery must be heavier than you." He chuckles. I roll my eyes.

"I'm too heavy. I've got a basketball stomach too." I say.

"Trust me, Katniss. If I didn't think I could carry you, I wouldn't have."

"Whatever…"

"And you haven't got a basketball stomach." Peeta says softly.

"Not yet, anyway," I grumble. Peeta's laugh rumbles in his chest. "Why are you laughing?" I ask him bitterly. He shakes his head, eyes sparkling.

"Nothing."

"Tell me!" I exclaim. Peeta smirks.

"It's funny, when you get frustrated," He shrugs. "You wrinkle your nose."

"Pff," I scoff. "And you run your hand through your hair when you're stressed, and the left side of your mouth twitches when you're trying not to laugh at something."

Whoa. Did I really just say that? How did I know that about Peeta? I feel a rosy blush creep onto my cheeks.

"I do?" Peeta asks, seemingly thinking nothing of my observation.

"Uh… yeah," I laugh. Timidly, I rest my head on Peeta's shoulder, the steady sway of him walking making me slightly sleepy. "Do you mind?" I ask him.

"No," Peeta shakes his head vigorously. "Not at all." I watch, fascinated, as a blush similar to mine covers Peeta's neck. I wonder what's made him nervous.

"Good." I say softly.

Just as I'm getting comfortable in Peeta's arms, the world tips on its side and I see the ground rushing up towards me. Peeta yells out, and I land on my stomach, the air rushing from my lungs.

"Katniss, are you alright?" Peeta asks, pushing himself up from where he's fallen and pulling me upright. I clutch at my tummy.

"I'm fine, what happened?"

"Jesus, calm down." Gale's voice comes from behind me and I whirl around.

"He tripped me up from behind!" Peeta says, his eyes wide. I feel my jaw fall slack.

"Why were you carrying her?" Gale asks.

"Why the fuck did you trip him up?" I exclaim.

"Mind the language." Gale mutters. I spy Prim, Rory and Vick chatting further down the road.

"Bullshit." I say, stepping forward.

"Why'd you do that?" Peeta asks.

"Why were you carrying her?"

"I fell over and hurt my foot." I snap.

"And Dough Boy was conveniently in the right place at the right time?" Gale asks sarcastically.

"Yeah, actually. He was!" I say.

"Don't keep followin' her, Mellark. It's creepy."

"Don't go tripping me up! One of us could have been hurt!" Peeta says. I frown, thinking that Peeta doesn't just mean him or me.

"Yeah, but you weren't." Gale says, looking suspiciously between the two of us. I can sense that this is going to quickly escalate into something nasty.

"That isn't the point!" Peeta grimaces. "Do you go around tripping people up all the time?"

"Fuck you, Mellark."

"Answer me, Hawthorne!" The two square their shoulders. Both of them are built like oxen, with broad shoulders and thick muscles, but Gale's taller than Peeta, and hours spent hunting has made him fast and strong. Peeta however, has the advantage of being a wrestling champion and working all day hefting heavy crates and sacks.

"You think you can fight me?"

"I know I can."

"Shut the hell up, both of you!" I yell. Gale's stormy grey eyes grow cold. Peeta's hands are clenching into fists at his sides. "Go home, Gale."

"I'm watchin' you," Gale tells Peeta. "And if you touch her, I'll beat you to a pulp."

"I'd like to see you try." Peeta growls.

"Come on," I say, yanking Peeta's arm and leaving Gale in the middle of the road. We head to my house. "Inside, Prim." I say to my sister. She says a hasty goodbye to the younger Hawthornes and hurries into our house.

"I shouldn't go in." Peeta says, breathing heavily beside me.

"You shouldn't, but you are." I say, holding the door open for him.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I stand their, rage still coursing through my veins after my confrontation with that twat, Gale Hawthorne. I can't believe he tripped me. Katniss landed on her stomach. What if she or the baby had been hurt? I never would've forgiven myself.

Katniss grows inpatient and hauls me over the threshold.

"Are you okay?" I ask her, eyeing her tummy. She catches me looking and pulls her thin jacket around herself.

"I'm fine."

"The baby?"

"Good," Katniss says. "Stop worrying."

"If you're worried, I can get Mom to check for you," Primrose Everdeen says. I forgot she was standing by the kitchen table. "You fell pretty hard. You don't want to miscarry." I blink, staring at the blonde-haired girl in front of me. She sure knows her beans.

"Prim, I'm alright. If I feel in need Mom's help, I'll ask." Katniss says.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," Katniss smiles. "Little Duck." She adds. Prim turns beet red.

"I told you not to call me that in front of people." She fumes.

"Don't worry, Prim," I say, feeling like a literal elephant in the room. "My brothers called me Peety-pie for years when I was younger." Prim giggles.

"Awh, Little Duck and Peety-pie," Katniss smiles from the doorway, squeezing past her little sister. "Sit down Peeta. I'm just going to the bathroom." She says.

The room falls silent and I pull a chair out, the legs scraping noisily against the floor, causing me to wince. Prim sits opposite me, her pale irises studying me intently. I fidget in my seat. The twelve-years-old's gaze is quite unnerving.

"So, you're the one who knocked my sister up?" She asks suddenly. I jump in my seat and then look down at my lap.

"Err… Yeah."

"Why so red?" Prim asks.

"You're actually quite intimidating." I say. Prim laughs, sounding just like Katniss.

"_I'm_ intimidating?" She asks, disbelieving. I nod. "I haven't heard that before."

"I like to keep it fresh." I shrug.

"You sure do. Who else knocks up their Baby Games partner?" Prim smirks. I stare, wide-eyed. "You didn't think that you actually had to have a baby, did you?"

"No, but my brothers nearly convinced me that I did to freak me out… I can't believe I believed them… but I didn't mean to… err.. Impregnate- No that's not the right word-" I mumble.

"It's alright Peeta. I know what you mean." Prim cuts me off. I nod.

"What did you do to him?" Katniss asks, coming back into the room.

"Interrogated him," Prim says, pulling a book from her bag. "He seems alright, you know. Apart from the 'I'm gonna be a Dad at 16' thing."

"Seventeen, actually…" I add.

"Peeta." Katniss rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, not helping."

"Not really." Katniss laughs.

"Look at him blushing!" Prim pokes, jabbing her pencil into my arm.

"Prim!" Katniss hisses. "Stop it!"

"Sorry… but look." I feel two pairs of eyes watching me.

"Sitting right here…" I tell them.

"He's a genius too," Katniss says, her embarrassed look breaking into a grin. I sit awkwardly as the two Everdeen sisters snort. "I'm sorry, Peeta. You know we don't mean it." Katniss says once she's calmed down.

"I know you don't, it's her I'm confused about." I say, motioning to Primrose. She smiles sweetly. Katniss laughs.

"Do you want something to drink?" Katniss asks me. I stand from my seat.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I better get going… I have to work." I say. Katniss blinks.

"Oh, okay. See you around?" Katniss asks, stepping forward to walk me to the door.

"Yeah." I say.

"Don't get into any fights with Gale, he's a bit protective."

"A bit." I mumble. Katniss swats at my arm.

"Sorry about Prim." She says.

"It's nothing," I say. Katniss stands uncomfortably at the door. "Do we hug? Or…"

"Yeah, alright." Katniss blushes, leaning forward. I tuck her under my chin, revelling in the feeling of her in my arms. She pulls away and look down at the floor. I clear my throat and step outside.

"Katniss?" I call as I come off the porch and onto the road. She looks up at me.

"Yeah?"

"Think about what I said." Katniss bites her lips, locks eyes with me, before firmly shutting the door, leaving me frustrated and bewildered outside her house.


	18. Chapter 18: Guessing Games

**Thanks for the reviews guys, it's amazing! Also, thank you to the guests who reviewed, I wish I could've replied. Onwards…**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

"Are you going hunting tomorrow?" Prim asks me later that day. I look up from my meal, not hungry.

"Huh?"

"I was just thinking that you haven't gone for ages."

"I know, " I sigh, leaning back in my chair. "I'm really annoyed at Gale at the moment… And worried. What if he notices, and reacts badly?"

Prim shoots me a rueful smile from across the table. "If he does notice, just explain to him what's happened. If he's truly your friend he'll understand."

"And beat Peeta to a pulp. He's halfway there already." I mutter.

"Why do you think he tripped Peeta?" Prim wonders out loud.

"I dunno. Probably thought it was funny."

"You are okay, aren't you?"

"I'm fine."

"So you're not feeling any pain?" Prim continues.

"None so far," My sister frowns, tapping her pencil against her bottom lips as she stares at me. "What?" I ask, bringing my hand up to touch my face.

"I think Mom should give you a look over anyway." She tells me. My heart clenches in my chest.

"Why?"

"You fell, Katniss. With Peeta practically on top of you. What if the baby is hurt?" I bite my lip guiltily, rubbing my stomach.

"You seem to care an awful lot about _my_ baby, Prim." I observe, raising an eyebrow. Prim squirms in her seat.

"Well, yeah. I am your sister," She says. "And I'm interested in stuff like this…"

"But I can't help but feel that everyone else seems to care more than I do. I'm not fit to be a mother."

"You managed to bring me up, and I turned out alright," Prim grins, kicking me under the table. "You'll be a great Mom."

"I'm not so sure. Peeta will be a great Dad, I'm certain. But I'll always be the one who doesn't know what to do."

"Katniss, you'll wage a war against winter itself if your kid does as much as sneezes." Prim giggles. I roll my eyes.

Prim's words do nothing but skim the top of the mountain of worries that are building up inside my head. I wasn't lying when I said that I was sure Peeta would be a great father when the time comes. I've seen the way he babies Prim on the rare occasions that we've been to the bakery, and when he's been around our house. These thoughts make me smile, but then I think of how I will be. That's what worries me. I

I've been told many times that I have a permanent scowl on my face, and that my surly attitude isn't fun to be around. Mothers are kind, smiling, happy people who show their children the joys of life, protecting them from the looming shadows. Sure, I've protected Prim as best as I can- to give her the childhood I never had- but I don't think I can do that to one of my own.

Money seconds my list of concerns. I sigh, running my hands through my hair. When the baby comes, it's going to need food, water, clothes, diapers, a crib, blankets, and bottles and not to mention toys. Hunting and trading alone will never cover the costs of raising a baby. It's barely enough to support my family. Another mouth to feed will be another struggle.

Winter is coming, and the ice and snow will kill many animals, send them to other districts that are warmer or put them in hibernation, impossible to find. I can distinctively remember the first winter after Dad passed. We were so hungry, unable to get food. All three of us, Mom, Prim and I, spent our time huddled in front of the fire; trying to dry sticks and branches I'd scavenged, sipping slowly at mugs of boiled water and mint leaves. Images of Prim's ribs sticking out from her pale skin as she shivered, Mom's sunken cheeks- skin hanging of her bones, the gut wrenching feeling of an empty stomach. I can remember being afraid to go to sleep. What if I didn't wake up? What if exhaustion finally took me away? Luckily it didn't, obviously, but the terror is still fresh in my mind.

I can't let that happen to us this year. I need to stock up on food. Get money. Store wood. Prepare. Letting my baby die would break me, I think. It would rip me apart, knowing that I couldn't support life.

Peeta works at the bakery, six days a week, but I'm not sure how much he gets paid- if he gets paid at all, for that matter. Even combined, we probably wouldn't have enough cash. I refuse to rely on handouts. My pride runs to high, just like Gale. A small voice in the back of mind reminds me that I've accepted handouts before, when times were desperate. Although I hate to admit it, my conscious is right. The very father of my child saved my life and my families. He obviously cared. Has that care lasted all these years? I doubt it. I've seen Peeta hanging around with Delly Cartwright a lot. I assumed that they were a couple. But I guess they're not anymore, considering…

"Katniss?" Prim asks me, waving hand in front of my face. I blink.

"Yeah?"

"So you'll let Mom check you over?" She asks.

"Yeah, alright. Tomorrow, after school. " I sigh, causing Prim's lips to turn up into a huge smile. I look back down at my dinner.

* * *

The following day, I arrange to meet Gale at our usual spot before school starts to fit in a bit of hunting. I wake early, press a kiss against Prim's forehead, and duck out of the District. The walk through the forest is cold and crisp, the ground crunching beneath my feet. I'm glad I wore two pairs socks.

My lips purse when I spot Gale at our usual meeting spot overlooking the valley, his hands deep in his pockets. Great. Sullen Gale today. I roll my eyes, walk over, pulling my father's jacket with my hands, trying to make my swollen tummy less obvious.

Everywhere I go, I feel like I'm being stared at- judged. It's frightening, feeling people stare and not having a clue at what they're thinking. Though the imaginations of most of the people in 12 are so limited, their thoughts probably aren't that difficult to figure out. I can imagine them assuming that the baby's father is Gale. I'm not completely obnoxious, I can hear the whispers that have been circulating about the two of us for the past few years. They think that hunting isn't the only thing we do. They think we're a couple.

I hope that Gale's trading business; reputation and possible job prospects won't be ruined because of me. Peeta is stuck, now. He's going to have this burden hanging over him for the rest of his life.

"I've a got a bone to pick with you." I mutter, sitting down on the top of a lichen-covered rock.

"I believe the correct pronunciation is; _Good morning, Gale. How are you?" _My friend says sarcastically.

"I believe the correct pronunciation is; _You're a complete dickhead, Gale Hawthorne." _I retort, narrowing my eyes. Gale chuckles.

"Whoa." He smirks. I punch his arm, frustrated.

"Well, are you going to apologize?" I ask.

"Apologise for what?" Gale continues, feigning innocence.

"You know what!" I exclaim, burying my hands in my pockets in an effort to keep them warm. "You tripped Peeta and we fell over. It hurt!"

"It's not my fault Dough Boy can't walk properly."

"Peeta can walk just fine. It was you who was being an idiot." I mutter.

"What's up your ass?" Gale asks me, his grey eyes stormy.

"Nothing, I'm just saying that it was mean." I hiss. We fall into stormy, stubborn silence, each of us waiting for who will break and talk first. I win.

"Why was he carrying you in the first place?" Gale bursts out.

"I told you, I fell and hurt my foot." I say.

"And where did this happen?"

"Just outside the fence. There was ice."

"So, you're telling me that Mellark was conveniently at the fence at the right time?" Gale asks, his brow furrowed. "Bit weird if you ask me. Was he following you? I wouldn't trust that creep."

"He isn't a creep. He was actually looking for me. We're partners in the Games and he wanted to know when we were swapping the flour sack," I fib quickly, twisting the end of my braid with my fingers. I stand, securing my quiver over my shoulder. "We better get going." I say, walking down the hill. Gale snorts from behind me.

"Whatever." He scoffs.

"It's true, Gale. Why don't you believe me?"

"Because I know stuff you don't." Gale says.

"Like what?" I ask.

"That Mellark's been fawning over you for years." Gale snaps. I freeze, but brush it off.

"I don't think so. He doesn't like me, he puts up with me. There's a difference."

"Yeah, I put up with you. It doesn't mean that I don't like you." Gale shrugs. I raise an eyebrow. He backtracks, opening and closing his mouth.

"Calm down, Hawthorne. I know what you mean." I chuckle.

"Good, so you know that Dough Boy's an complete weirdo who lusts after you?" Gale asks, putting extra emphasis on the word 'lust'. I blush.

"Shut up, Gale. Peeta and I are just friends." I say. _Yeah, 'caus best friends have drunken sex and end up being parents.' _My conscious pipes up again.

Gale bends down to cut a rabbit from a snare on his trap line, handing it to me. I shake my head.

"You take it Gale." I say. Gale straightens up after resetting the trap, balancing all the little components carefully.

"Actually, I think you're right." Gale says, a smirk on his lips.

"What do you mean?" I ask him. Gale's eyes flicker down to my stomach. I feel my eyes widen.

"Whatever you've been eating, it's making you fat," He says boldly. I lock my jaw, trying to hide my panic. "Sorry, maybe I should've used bigger, or more of a wide load." Gale laughs. I dig my elbow into his ribs as he walks away.

But I gulp. _Does he know?_ Is he just playing it cool, waiting for me to spill? Or maybe he just thinks I'm getting a bit chubbier. I've noticed that besides my out-of-proportion-to-the-rest-of-my-body belly, I've been getting a tad bigger. And for the first time in my life, I've actually got breasts.

* * *

My paranoia continues all throughout the day, and I end up bugging Madge so bad that she ends up nearly pulling her hair up in frustration. However, as we get changed after Gym, I catch Madge staring at me again.

"Please Madge. Tell me what you're staring at." I beg her. She looks down at the floor, tying her shoes, trying to ignore the question.

"Nothing, Katniss."

"It's obviously something." I say. Madge bites her lip, looks around the nearly empty changing room and looks at me.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but your tummy is kinda sticking out." She whispers. I look down in horror and see that yes, my stomach is indeed sticking out from under my shirt.

"You didn't think anyone noticed?" I ask, frantically pulling my jacket over my head.

"No, I don't think so," Madge shakes her head. "But Katniss, it's good to see you putting on some weight. I know winters are tough."

"But I haven't been eating any better." I say.

I suddenly realise that I need to confide with someone. If I don't I think my head will explode.

"Oh." Madge says. She frowns.

"If I tell you something, will you promise not to judge me? Or anyone else? Or tell anyone?" I ask Madge. She nods frantically. I take a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

"What?" Madge exclaims, her eyes wide. And then she clicks her fingers. "Oh, Katniss! It all makes sense now. You feeling sick. The lavender in your locker, you getting a bit bigger."

"Please don't tell anyone." I say. Madge takes my hand.

"Do you really think I would?" She asks.

"No!" I flounder. "It's just that, you know…"

"Don't worry," Madge smiles sadly. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" I shake my head. "How far along are you?"

"Four months-ish." I say. Madge looks down at my stomach.

"When did it happen?"

"After Bron's party." I confess, feeling filthy. What have I done?

"Who's the father?"

"I thought you were asking me one thing!" I whisper. Madge shrugs.

"Come on, I'm curious." She says.

"I don't wanna tell you. It'll ruin everything. And I doubt he wants anyone to know."

"So it isn't Gale?" Madge asks.

"No!" I exclaim. "Definitely not."

"Hmm…" Madge says, studying me intently. "Merchant?"

"I'm not saying nothing." I mutter, regretting saying anything. Peeta and I should've discussed whom we told. I know he's his family (including his mother- deep joy) and he knows that I've told mine. But I don't want too many people knowing before we've talked and got a bit more organized.

To be honest, I'm still reeling from his sudden proposal.

"So it's a Merchant," Madge deduces. I frown. She wrinkles her nose. "You have this look in your eye when someone guesses something you're tryin' to hide." She tells me. I cover my face.

"Please, Madge. I can't handle this." I mumble softly. Madge wraps her arms around me. I sigh.

"I'm here for you, Katniss. You know that I will never judge you. I'm your friend." She whispers into my ear.

"Thank you. But I will understand if you don't wanna be near me anymore." I say.

"Don't worry. I'll be a good friend and help you."

"Thanks." I repeat. I feel Madge stiffen. She pulls away, her hands on my shoulders.

"It's Peeta, isn't it? You went to his house after the party." She says. My stomach clenches. Am I really an open book? Or is everyone not as stupid as I remember?

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I bounce my leg nervously under the plastic cafeteria table, waiting for Katniss to arrive. To my left sits Mitch- his tongue stuck out in concentration as he attempts to build a pencil tower. Delly sits to my right, giggling away at something someone said. She nudges me and I flash a smile in her direction.

"You alright, Peeta? You look freaked." She observes.

"I'm fine, Dells." I reassure her. Delly smiles and opens her mouth to say something else, but Valerie Thread slithers in between us, grasping my bicep and squeezing.

"Hey!" She says cheerfully. Delly does a strangling motion behind her back. I grin. "I haven't seen you since yesterday!"

"Err, yeah." I say. Delly rolls her eyes. She hates Valerie. I'm not exactly keen on her either. I never have, not since third grade when she started acting all high and mighty. And now, especially due to all the conflict she's caused between Katniss and me, I despise her even more. She leans forward- to kiss me- and push her away.

"Why not?" She asks, her eyes wide.

"Because I told you the other two times that I'm not interested."

"So?" The girl asks, fluttering her eyelashes furiously in what I think is meant to be a seductive way. I think it just looks like she's got a really bad twitch.

"So, he doesn't want to kiss you. Or be with you!" Delly snaps, climbing over Valerie and wedging herself in between the two of us. Valerie glares at Delly, and then at me before turning away and focusing on something else.

"I am eternally grateful for your kindness." I tell Delly, thankful for my longest friend's support.

"Kindness?" Delly asks. "I think you mean sass." She laughs. I laugh along with her, but am cut short when I see Madge and Katniss sitting at their usual table, deep in conversation across the room. I didn't even see her come in.

"Sorry, Delly. But I need to talk to Katniss quickly." I apologise.

"Don't let Thread corner you." She calls cheerfully after me as I stand and walk away, my bag swinging behind me.

"- bothered that Valerie is all over him?" I catch the end of Madge's question as I stop at Katniss' booth. She looks up at me, her beautiful grey eyes concerned.

"Uh, Katniss? Can I talk to you for a second, about the project?" I ask her. Katniss opens her mouth to answer but Madge buts in.

"It's only the _Baby_ Games. What secret do you have that I can't hear?" She asks. I glance from her to Katniss. Katniss groans.

"Katniss?" I ask again, bouncing from one foot to the other. Madge's gaze it just as unnerving as Prim's was last night.

"Peeta," Katniss sighs, hiding her face. "I told Madge. She knows."

"I guessed that it was you." Madge inputs. I freeze.

"What?"

"She knows. I told her. I'm sorry," Katniss mumbles, looking guiltily up at me. I melt. "I knew I should've talked to you before hand."

"She's not gonna say anything, is she?" I ask. Madge snorts. Katniss shakes her head.

"My name is Madge, not 'She'." Madge mutters.

"Please just sit down." She mumbles. I slide onto the bench beside her, not meeting the steely eyes of the Mayor's daughter. I'm not used to this side of Madge. I used to the quiet, soft-spoken girl. But apparently with Katniss she's actually quite confident.

"Madge, you're actually quite scary." I say. Katniss laughs dryly from beside me.

"You can't hand blonde-haired girls, can you?" She asks. I shake my head.

"I can't handle any girls."

"Yeah, especially not Valerie." Madge says. Katniss kicks Madge under the table,

"Madge! I told you not to be horrible about this!" She cries. Madge stops and looks at her friend.

"I'm sorry, honestly. I'm just a little freaked out right now."

"Can you image how I'm feeling?" Katniss scoffs. "What do you want, Peeta?" She asks.

"I wanted to know if you'd thought any more about what I said. You know about m-" Katniss slaps her hand over my mouth.

"Shh!" She hisses.

"Oh, so there is something I don't know." Madge says. Katniss pulls a face in her friend's direction and moves her hand away.

"We'll talk later." She says.

"Oh, okay." I say.

"And I want you to come round mine after school." She says. I swallow. Why does she want me to come round? I watch her carefully. Is something wrong?

"Why?"

"You'll find out." Katniss says, throwing a walnut shell at Madge when the blonde girl clears her throat suggestively.

"Oh, okay."

"You can come, can't you? I don't want you to get in trouble for not showing up at the bakery or something."

"Dad will understand if I say it's to do with you." I smile softly.

"But your Mom won't." She mumbles. I squeeze her hand.

"I'll be fine," I reassure her. She pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. "I'll meet you at the gates?"

"Yeah, see you then." Katniss says, just as the bell rings and we depart to our separate lessons.


	19. Chapter 19: Baby Bump

**Sorry about the long wait again, but I've been stressing out over my exams and just needed a few days to relax before writing again, but you guys are awesome! I rushed this chapter a bit, but hopefully you'll like it! Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows :)**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I watch as the clock on the wall of the Health and Well-being slowly ticks away. Because of the Baby Games, we've been learning about pregnancy, children and sex in great length for the past few weeks.

Fortunately I only have exactly five minutes of school left. I lean back in my seat, glad that I sit right at the back, in the corner of the room with no partner. I put my bag onto the desk to hide me partially, and rest my hands on my stomach. Normally, I don't like showing any kind of affection to the thing growing inside me, not even at home. But it's kind of soothing and relaxing to rub my hands over my belly. The sickness has thankfully subsided, but I still eat ginger roots as a daily snack and have a fresh bundle of lavender in my locker.

At the time, inviting Peeta along for my first proper check up seemed like a good idea. He is the father after all- he has a right to be present. But I can't help but feel anxious. What if Mom reveals that there's something wrong with the baby?

Usually, especially in poor districts like 12 or 11, if it's identified that the child could have some sort of disability, it is usual aborted. This way the struggle of raising a disfigured or handicapped when you can barely feed yourself is eliminated. Of course, most are either unable to seek professional medical attention and 7 times out of ten, a child with a disability goes undetected and the parents have to make the decision to raise the child or leave it at an orphanage.

District 12's Orphans Home is nothing to smile about. I've seen the thin children that are there. Their sallow skin and ragged clothes. The blue-and-green bruises littering their bodies. They aren't looked after in the place that is meant to be a _home_.

What if Mom thinks that the baby could turn out as disabled? I've learnt enough at school to know that if the parents are healthy, the child will most likely be healthy, but their are special circumstances where the child can be affected. I look at the black board at the sound of the teacher raising her voice, but it isn't at me for not paying attention.

A sentence written in chalk on the board catches my attention.

_Trauma during pregnancy can cause disability._

My heart leaps as I think about Gale tripping Peeta, and me falling. What if the impact onto the hard ground had done something? I can see the heartbroken look in Peeta's adorable blue eyes if Mom advised for an abortion. I don't know what I would do. What we would do.

Regardless of the child's condition, I'm sure Peeta would love it. Over time I think I would. I'm so heartless. Haymitch would probably call me as charming as a dead slug or something, but that's exactly what I'm like. Peeta is the polar opposite. Gale doesn't know what he's talking about. Peeta is just my friend.

The bell rings and the teacher instructs the class to hand in their books. I pull my jacket around me and sling my bag over my shoulder before joining the line of students waiting to abandons their books and escape the building. I reach the front and hand over my exercise and textbooks, before disappearing into the busy corridors. Pulling open my locker, I inhale deeply, the smell of lavender calming me.

I shouldn't have invited Peeta. How do I tell him that he can't come with me without upsetting him?

Letting out a large sigh, I close my locker door and navigate my way past throngs of chattering students. As usual, I find Prim waiting under the only living tree in the entire school campus. It's always either Prim or myself waiting for the other under the tree, it's been that way since Prim's first day of school.

My sister waves to me as I walk down the cracked school steps and join her.

"Peeta's coming round today isn't he?" She asks excitedly.

"Yeah," I reply, nodding my head. "And be nice. He's afraid of you."

"Afraid of me?" Prim asks, her eyes wide. "I think you're the scary one." I push her shoulder and she laughs.

True to his promise, Peeta is waiting for me by the gates, ruffling his hair with his hand and shifting his weight from one foot to the next. He shouts something over the crowd to Mitch and Madge who are walking in the other direction, hands twined together. Mitch turns and sneers at him, causing Peeta to laugh. Despite not knowing what they're talking about I still find a small smile on my lips.

"Hey, Peeta." Prim says loudly as we approach the baker's son. He turns at Prim's voice and smiles.

"Uh, hi. Prim." He greets.

"So you are scared of me!" She laughs, looking up at me. "You were right, Katniss!" I shrug my shoulders, watching as Peeta raises an eyebrow.

"I should have bet something with you." I grin.

"I'm not scared of you," Peeta interjects as we start walking in the direction of the Seam. "But your interrogation kind of freaked me out a bit."

"Whatever," Prim laughs. "And I haven't finished with the questions yet. I need to know if you're suitable for Katniss or not."

"You have Prim interrogate every guy?" Peeta asks.

"No... I- wait. What do you mean by 'every guy'?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, Peeta. You're doing so well." Prim sighs.

"Why'd you say that?"

"I didn't mean it like that." Peeta says, flustered. Prim giggles at his wide eyes.

"She's just kidding with you." She says. I shoot Peeta an apologetic smile.

"Okay. Maybe I am scared of you." Peeta says softly to Prim after a few moments is silence. Prim laughs. Peeta and I groan when my sister says cheerfully:

"So, Peeta. Were you in a relationship with someone else when you knocked up Katniss?"

"What?" Peeta exclaims, disbelieving.

"Prim!" I hiss.

"What?" Prim says, fighting the smirk that's trying to invade her face.

"Stop it, it's not your business. It's Peeta's." I scold softly.

"Yeah, but surely it's your too. You're the knocked up-ee..." She says, trying to think of a word that could describe my position. She runs forward and walks ahead by herself, swinging her skirt about her legs, leaving Peeta and I walking side-by-side in silence.

Prim's words have struck something in me though. I do want to know if Peeta was in a relationship the night that... We... Well... Did he break up with her? Are they still together? Does she know? He was most likely with Delly Cartwright, but seeing him with Valerie Thread has made me think twice.

I glance at Peeta and catch him watching me, but he looks away when he meets my eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asks me quietly.

"What does Delly think?" I blurt out, instantly regretting it.

"Delly?" He asks. I nod, biting my lip in anticipation of hearing her answer. "She doesn't know. I won't tell her until you say it's okay." I frown. His words making me feel guilty for telling Madge without consulting with him first.

"When are you going to tell her?" I ask.

"I don't know. Does it really matter?"

"She should know if she's your girlfriend. I don't want to break you two up if you're happy, but pretty soon it's going to be obvious." I say. Peeta shakes his head.

"Delly isn't my girlfriend!" He exclaims. I blink.

"So Valerie is?"

"No, no. She kissed me. I told her I wasn't interested." Peeta explains.

"Are you with someone else?"

"Katniss. I didn't have a girlfriend then, and I don't have one now." Peeta reassures me, placing a hand on my shoulder a smiling.

"Oh, good," I say. Peeta raises an eyebrow again. "No!" I back-pedal hastily. "I didn't mean it like that, I meant that at least I didn't have some Merchant girl shooting daggers at me for the rest of my life."

"Katniss. It's alright. I know what you mean." Peeta laughs. I scowl, which only makes him laugh harder.

We reach my house and I begin to feel nervous once again. Prim is already inside, undoubtedly helping my Mother prepare for the examination.

"Can I know why I've been brought here yet?" Peeta queries. It isn't some baby shower party is it?"

"No," I snort. "Besides, Madge would've have been invited if there was, and she's... Err."

"Fraternising?" Peeta asks with a grin.

"I guess you could call it that." I say, wrinkling my nose. Peeta chuckles. I take a deep breath and climb over the creaking porch and pushing the worn front door open.

"Mom?" I call. "Prim?" Prim's blonde head peeks out from the doorway to the kitchen.

"We're in here." She smiles. I step inside and shut the door behind Peeta.

"Um. Put your bags and stuff here." I tell him, suddenly feeling very small in my own house. Peeta towers above all three of us Everdeens, his head not far from the ceiling. He doesn't have to duck as far as Gale does when going through doorways, but he's still tall.

"What?" He asks, self conscious, breaking me out of thoughts.

"Oh, sorry. It's just that you're tall, that's all." I tell him.

"I think you're just short." Peeta pokes, standing beside me and comparing out heights.

"Hey!" I say, digging my elbow into his shoulder.

"I'm kidding." Peeta laughs. I roll my eyes.

"Come on." I say, walking through the room and into the kitchen.

Mom is chatting with Prim when we enter the room, rolling her sleeves up her skinny arms. Peeta spots the off-white tablecloth on the kitchen table against the wall and the medical bag sat on one end.

"You've brought me here to torture me, haven't you?" He asks with a heavy sigh. "I should've known."

"I've haven't brought you here for that, not today." I joke.

"Not today?" Peeta laughs gently.

"No, Mom and Prim just wanted to check on the baby, and I thought that you should be present, since you're the father and all." I explain. Peeta's lips turn up at the sides and his eyes soften.

"Thanks." He says.

"I may be a sour bitch half the time, but I'm not completely incompetent." I say.

"You're not a sour bitch." Peeta says.

"Sure, and you're not a Mellark." I say. Peeta smiles, scratching the back of his head.

Mom calls me over and gets me to sit on the edge of the table. I've seen her do examinations over here, but she often does home visits. I have to admit that I'm quite curious as how she actually goes about well, _examining. _

"Good Afternoon, Peeta." Mom says. Peeta shuffles awkwardly.

"Good Afternoon, Mrs Everdeen." He says.

"Don't be so nervous, I'm not gonna bite your head off just yet," She smiles softly. Peeta looks down, leaning against the table. "And call me Dahlia, please."

"Uh, okay." Peeta smiles.

"So, Katniss. You're just over four months along, am I right?" Mom starts, pinning her hair back from her face. I can almost hear Peeta sigh in relief from beside me.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Shit this is awkward.

"Yup. I'll be four months just before New Years." Katniss says. I swallow. Has it really been that long?

"So the date of conception was?" Mrs Everdeen- Dahlia- prompts. Katniss blushes. I clear my throat.

Oh, it just gets better and better.

"Mom, you know when. Don't make this awkward." Katniss mumbles. Mrs Everdeen laughs. Prim giggles. I try to sink into the wall behind me.

"Alright, alright," Katniss' mother says, a smirk on her pale lips. "So, have you felt any pain recently?"

"Not bad pain." Katniss says. I feel my eyes widen at this.

"What?" I ask, looking at Katniss worriedly.

"It was just after Gale tripped you. Well, that evening actually."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Mrs Everdeen asks, her brow creasing.

"Because I didn't want to cause a fuss, and it was only a few times. I thought it was normal."

"But Katniss, what if it's something worse?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, okay," Katniss whispers. Mrs Everdeen asks Katniss to lay back on the pillows so she's propped up. She does this and pushes up a sleeve that has fallen down her arm before asking Katniss to pull her top up. "Excuse me?" She asks, looking from me to her stomach to me to her mother.

"Not all the way, just so your belly is uncovered." Mrs Everdeen shakes her head. Prim, watching intently, stands beside her mother as Katniss pulls her top upwards.

My first thought is of how thin she is. I can see her ribs, and can count a few of the bottom ones. Her jeans and tight around her bony hips. I almost makes me want to cry. She's carrying my child, the child I helped create, yet she barely eats enough to sustain herself. And then I let my eyes move over the curve of her stomach.

"Is that normal?" I ask. "Katniss, you look a little bit small." Katniss opens her mouth to answer but Mrs Everdeen cuts in.

"She's doing just fine, Peeta. Don't you worry."

"I think it looks like a balloon." Katniss mutters.

"That's because you're slim."

"Skinny." Katniss mutters.

"It's gonna get worse." Prim interjects playfully, jabbing at her sister's leg with her finger.

"Great." Katniss mutters, catching my gaze. I try to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. I need to help her. I need to help all three- _all_ _four_- of them.

I watch, transfixed as Mrs Everdeen presses down at different areas on the tanned skin of Katniss' stomach. She rambles on about various things and Katniss answers once or twice. Prim points stuff out and asks questions. I just stand there, bewildered.

"Peeta?" Katniss asks. I look up and see all three Everdeens looking at me.

"Huh?"

"Mom asked you if you had any questions." Katniss asks. I chew at my bottom lip.

"Not right now I don't."

"You know you can come and speak to Prim or myself at anytime." Katniss' Mom says kindly. Katniss swivels around and pulls her shirt down.

"Yeah, I know." I say softly.

"Are you okay?" Prim asks.

"I'm just a bit dazed." I mumble, embarrassed at my reaction.

I just can't believe what I've done. I've done this to Katniss. It's my fault that I can't handle even the smallest amount of alcohol. The Everdeens are struggling as it is, they don't need another mouth to feed. I can't keep getting freaked out whenever I think about the future.

How are we going to afford a baby? I'll have to work full-time at the bakery. But then I won't be able to finish school. Will Katniss be able to finish school? Or get a job? Oh, Jesus. She won't be able to anything that she wanted now. Because of me, her whole life is now practically planned out. She'll never be able to do what she wants.

"Lets take you home." Katniss says swiftly, leading me out of the room.

"Bye, and thanks!" I call over my shoulder.

"See you around Peeta!" Prim calls. Katniss yanks me out of the door. The cold air hits me and I stumble, Katniss putting her hands out to steady me.

"Whoa, Peeta. Are you feeling alright?" She asks, her eyes worried.

"No, Katniss! I'm not!" I exclaim. She jerks back, frowning. "I'm not okay at all!"

"You seemed alright on the way here!" She hisses.

"That's because I was able to block out the fact that I've ruined your life and just talk to you like a friend!"

"Isn't that what you want?" Katniss asks, exasperated.

"I don't know."

"You want me to marry you, don't you?" She asks. I look up, conflicted.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I've already knocked you up, and marrying you is the least I can do to try and ease the burden of having my child. I know you don't want this. You never wanted this. I don't know if I ever wanted this! If I did, it wasn't this way," I run my hand through my hair nervously. "I just want to care for you. And if at the end of it all, you decide to marry Gale like you wanted and spend your days outside the fence, I guess I'd have to accept the fact." Katniss stands there, her hands at her sides, surprised at my outburst.

"I wasn't gonna marry Gale."

"What?"

"I mean, I might have, but I doubt very much that I would've really wanted to."

"But I've still stolen you're life from you." I mutter.

"No, you haven't," Katniss says, a smile playing at her lips. "You've just completely fucked it up."

"Exactly."

"So, since you fucked up my life, I'll fuck up yours and marry you." Katniss says quickly. She blinks, as if she can't believe what she's just said.

"W-what?" I ask, my pulse racing.

"I'll marry you Peeta," Katniss repeats, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion, fear and shock. "Now go home and let me think."

"I thought you were walking me." I manage to say as she retreats up the path.

"Not today, Baker Boy. Give me some space."


	20. Chapter 20: Doing it the right way

**200 REVIEWS! Guys you make want to cry with happiness! :') Thankfully my exams are over for a while, so I'll try to churn out chapters as quickly as I can! All your reviews have made me happy, keep them coming ;) AND, I've been getting reviews for my other two stories, so thanks for those as well!**

**Oh dear God, the next few chapters are going to be fun to write! It's a mix of wholesome Everlark fluffiness and feelings, but don't worry. Drama is just on the metaphorical horizon :3 Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I've actually agreed to marry Peeta.

I've surprised even myself; I thought that it would take longer than a few weeks to make up my mind- if I ever _did_ make up my mind, that is. I turned away quickly so I wouldn't have to be blown back by the force of emotion that undoubtedly flooded over Peeta's face, but not before I caught a glimpse of raw shock in his eyes.

Straight after shutting the door, I slid down it, tucking my knees under my chin and leaning against the door_. What next? _Was the first question that came to mind. And even now, as I lie on the lumpy mattress of my bed, hours after accepting Peeta's proposal, I'm struggling to think of what actually will happen. In the next few hours, days. Weeks.

I have yet to tell Mom and Prim. I'm sure that Prim will be thrilled. As tough as she likes to be, she is a sucker for romance. I can clearly remember Prim coming home aged nine and gushing about a story from the Capitol that she had been told in class one day.

"_They had such beautiful dresses, Katniss!" She had sighed, leaning her chin on her hand as she stared out of the window. "They cost so much as well, but I'm not surprised! The teacher showed us pictures of the weddings in the Capitol. The dresses are funny-looking and in so many colours and some of them are made completely out of pearls or diamonds… It was so romantic. The reception was beautiful. All of it was like a fairytale."_

Back in District 12, where brides rented a white dress that had been worn hundreds of times before and grooms wore whatever wasn't covered in coal dust. In the Capitol, months are spent on making brand new dresses that cost more than the entire District would make in ten years. In District 12, the couple sign some forms at the Justice Building and are assigned a house. In the Capitol, ceremonies are held almost anywhere, mansions, castles, and clubs.

In District 12 the family gathers and sings a traditional sing as the newly-weds cross the threshold of their new home, and eat a bit of cake or have a meal if they can afford it. In the Capitol, parties can have hundreds- thousands if the couple is famous- of guests and the partying can continue for over twenty-four hours. The food is enough to feed an army. In humble District 12, the bride and groom toast bread over a fire once their guests have gone home. In the extravagant world of the Capitol, the couple go on honeymoons for weeks on end.

And that's just one of many differences between the poorest district in all of Panem and the bubble of the Capitol. They have too much money. We don't have enough.

Prim mumbles something in her sleep. In a few hours, she'll move to sleep in Mom's bed.

My heart squeezes as I think over the traditional District 12 wedding. The customs may seem old-fashioned, but they represent the District well. You don't always have to have bucketfuls of money to have a memory-filled day.

I'll have to have a toasting with Peeta. It's said that if you don't, it's bad luck, and that your marriage is doomed. A toasting is meant to be a private thing were the couple share the vows they couldn't in the Justice Building. It's a sacred thing. It's something you do with the person you truly love.

But I'm not in love with Peeta. I only ever imagined myself never marrying or marrying Gale. That's what everyone else thought anyway. How will I be able to face Peeta? I can't tell him that I love him. Maybe I'll learn to love him. He's a good person, he's never been anything but kind towards me, and through everything I've put him, he hasn't turned away. For him to do that, he must care about me, even if it's only a small amount. What if he only loves our unborn child? He may not- probably doesn't- feel anything to me.

I roll over with a sigh, resting my hand on my stomach. It's getting bigger with every passing day. Before long, it's going to be obvious. I wont be able to hide it. Gale will find out. Everyone will find out. And someone has to be the father.

Marriage was something I never wanted to get into. Love is marriage. And I know what love can do to you. Mom was ripped apart when Dad died. She's only started coming back in the past few months. It took me falling pregnant to snap her out of the daze she was in for all that time. And marriage leads to children (normally). Peeta and I have done this the other way round.

I will be stripped of the surname Everdeen. I will become Katniss Mellark, and will loose one of the only things that make me feel close to my father's memory. Once I sign the papers at the Justice Building, I will become- essentially- property of Peeta Mellark. Divorce is ugly, and something I wouldn't want to go through. Hopefully marrying Peeta will be the right way to go. Deep down I know that this is for the best; it will ease the costs of raising a child. Peeta and I will both have jobs to bring income in.

I just wish I had more control over my life.

This is the fault of the Capitol. If they gave out adequate birth control to the Districts, things like this wouldn't happen. Maybe the fiasco between Peeta and I would be nothing but a memory to bug me for the rest of my days. Something to blush about whenever I traded with him or his father. Would Peeta have ever figured out what had happened in his bed? Or maybe he would've regarded our relations as a casual fling.

I feel like my head is going to implode, or explode, under the pressure of all my worries and questions buzzing around in my brain.

Where will we live? Together? Most likely, to stop suspicions. Are we going to share a bed? Jesus. That would be awkward.

I shake my head, take a deep breath and try to calm down. If anything, I need sleep.

* * *

The following morning, I wake to the sound of Prim laughing and Buttercup hissing. I climb out of bed and peer out of the window, finding Prim on the porch with the ugly yellow cat she adores so much. She sees me through the window and waves. I smile and wave back before getting dressed into my usual clothes of trousers, a shirt and my jacket, (bloodstains wiped off).

As I go to reach for the rope that I use as a makeshift belt so my worn jeans don't fall from my bony hips, I find that I don't need to hold up the waist band as I reach over to get the rope. My stomach is big enough to hold them by itself. I stand there, wiggling my hips. The jeans stay put. This is getting serious now.

Narrowing my eyes, I step sideways and stare at myself in Dad's cracked old shaving mirror that's leaning against the wall. From the front, I just look a little…fatter. But from the side, you can tell that something is up. In my shirt you can see the outline of my belly. And my breasts. Great. Pretty soon I'll have to start letting out my clothes to accommodate. That or let my shirt ride up over my stomach.

"I'm getting fat." I state as I walk into the kitchen and cut a thin slice of bread from the dwindling supply we have in our kitchen.

"No you aren't." Mom smiles from her cup of mint tea.

"I don't have to use rope as a belt anymore." I say pointedly.

"Katniss, it's called being pregnant. You're glowing, not getting fat." Mom smiles, eyeing my stomach.

"Glowing my arse." I snort, chewing on the stale bread as my stomach grumbles.

"Your what?" Prim asks as she enters through the front door.

"Nothing." I mumble. Mom glares at me. Prim giggles, rocking Buttercup in her arms. Once I've finished my meagre breakfast, I gulp down some water and help Prim braid her hair.

"You're glowing." She laughs, looking up at me in the mirror with teasing eyes. I shake my head, shoving her shoulder gently.

"And you're a pain." I say, sitting back at the kitchen table to tie my boots. Prim chats to Mom about school, and I wait for the moment to tell my mother and sister that I've agreed to marry Peeta.

I wonder what Peeta's doing right now. Is he helping at the bakery? Walking to school? Has he told his family that his proposal has finally been accepted? His mother's reaction must have been impressive. I can imagine steam pouring from her ears. Poor Peeta. He has to face the wrath of that witch because of me. Well, more than he normally does.

"Katniss?" Mom asks, nudging my arm.

"Yeah?" I ask, brought out of my thoughts.

"Are you going to go to the bakery anytime soon? We need more bread. That's the last loaf." Mom tells me, gesturing to the loaf sitting on the kitchen table between us.

Ever informative in my answers, I pull a face and shrink back in my seat.

The last thing I want to do is to face the rest of the Mellark brood. In fact, I'd be perfectly content with curling up in the corner for the rest of my life, hiding from Aymee Mellark, her kindly husband Farrell and the boisterous Fenton and Rye. I'm sure they've had their fair stab at Peeta. I can imagine a seemingly endless stream of crude jokes. Withering looks from Peeta. Fun times.

Obviously I realise that sometime I'll have to suck up my pride and ego and just face the fact that I can't ignore the bakery forever. Mr and Mrs Mellark will soon become my in-laws. Fantastic.

I realise that Mom is still waiting for an answer.

"I'll go today. But if Mrs Mellark shoots me, or I die of embarrassment, please know that you're responsible," I say. Mom rolls her eyes. Prim giggles. "You too, Little Duck." I tell her. She sticks her tongue.

"Thank you, Katniss. Take some cheese to trade. I know that Farrell likes goats cheese." Mom advises. Prim runs to get some cheese blocks and wraps them in basil leaves before wrapping that in turn in linen.

"Come on Prim. We don't want to be late." I say.

"Okay, I'll just make sure Lady has enough water." Prim nods, slinging her bag onto her back and dashing outside. I look up at my mother. She smiles softly and pats my shoulder as she moves past me to the sink. The sound of water splashing fills the room as Mom scrubs a plate.

"Peeta proposed." I say quietly. The sound of water ceases.

"And?" Mom prompts carefully. I take a deep breath

"I told him yes," I say. "It's the best thing to do." Mom steps over and hugs me, smoothing my hair down consolingly.

"You'll be okay. Peeta is a good man. He is entirely his father, nothing like his mother."

"I know," I admit. "But he doesn't want this."

"Are you sure?" Mom asks. "He must have wanted something, since he asked you for your hand."

"He doesn't like me, in that way. We're just friends. I know that our friendship is mixed up, but we're still friends."

"Your father would approve." Mom says with raised eyebrows, her eyes kind.

"Of me getting pregnant at sixteen?" I ask sarcastically.

"Well, no," Mom pulls away. "But he'd be proud that you've grown to be a responsible young woman who has kept half-sane through the first hurdle of this and has married an man who is good through and through."

"Thanks Mom." I say.

"Good luck with telling Prim." Mom winks, before disappearing through the doorway of the kitchen. I stand, zip my jacket, and wrap a scarf around my neck. Prim has my jumper and gloves, but she has a hat from Hazelle Hawthorne that was knitted for her birthday last year. Now that the cold is getting worse, coats and hats and scarves are beginning to show up in town.

In the almost silence of the kitchen, I hear Prim chattering enthusiastically. I smile fondly. She's always talking to Buttercup and Lady, as if they were talking back with an equal amount of gusto. I pull my bag over my shoulder and open the front door.

"Prim, you do realise that Lady and Buttercup don't answer your questions, don't you?" I ask jokingly, leaning into the doorframe so the door closes properly. We don't want any extra drafts.

"Well, if you listen carefully, you can hear Lady agreeing with Prim." A deep voice chuckles. I spin around. Peeta stands beside a grinning Prim, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his wrestling hoodie. He looks nervous.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him.

"That's a fine way to great me." He says. I scowl.

"It's alright, Katniss. He came here to walk with us." Prim says, shooting me a look.

"But this is so far out of your way." I say to Peeta. He shrugs, blue eyes blazing.

"It's fine," He says. "I wanted to talk to you anyway." Prim tugs on my arm and shoots me a warning look. I sigh and Prim grins, skipping ahead, down the dusty path. I take a deep breath and look at Peeta. He smiles softly.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

"How are you?" I ask.

"I'm… Okay, actually." Katniss says, her eyes bright.

"Good," I say. "That's good." We walk away, our breath steaming into the cold air.

"I'm sorry for, you know, slamming the door in your face yesterday. I just was surprised at myself." Katniss mumbles.

"Trust me, I was just as surprised as you were." I chuckle, remembering the look on Katniss' face when she finally accepted my proposal. Her eyes were a mix of shock, fear and hope. Hope that _I _hoped was something she would cling onto. That she wouldn't give up on marrying me.

All I want to do is make her understand that I'm not going to give up. Through thick and thin, I'm going to take care of her and our baby. I've already ruined her life by knocking her up. The last thing I'm going to do is leave her. The last thing I _want_ to do is hurt her.

"I've told Mom," Katniss says. "But Prim still doesn't know yet."

"Uh, how did your Mom take it?" I ask.

"She was okay with it, I think. She said that my Dad would've been proud, and that's a big thing for Mom to say. That he would be proud that-"

"That you're pregnant and engaged at 16?" I ask gruffly. Katniss laughs and punches me on the shoulder.

"No, you moron. She said that Dad would've been proud of me for making good choices, considering what's happened. She said I was being responsible. And was staying half-sane through all of this."

"You are."

"Staying half-sane?" She asks.

"Uh, no," I laugh. "But you're doing the right thing and being responsible."

"Of course _you_ would say that. You're the one who proposed." Katniss says. She continues to talk but I find myself occupied with my own thoughts.

To me, this marriage isn't just a way of saving some dignity and helping Katniss. To me, this marriage is my way of showing that I care for her. How much she thinks I care, I don't know.

For years I've loved the skinny Seam girl who never paid attention in class, barely smiled, and had only ever spoke a few words to me. Those words were treasured. I could never quiet work up the courage to just say 'hi' or try and make our few words exchanged at the back of the bakery into a conversation. All these years. All those times I traded with her. And I was a coward, reduced to a mumbling, red-cheeked muddle.

But I love Katniss with all my heart. And if I end up heartbroken at the end of this, there's going to be one hell of a mess leftover.

"-Because Prim thought that Buttercup had ran away, but he was just eating leftovers from the garbage cans in town." Katniss says. I look along the dusty road ahead of us, which is slowly filling with students moving in one direction to the school, and weary miners with invisible loads upon their shoulders trudging in the other direction. Prim is chatting with a girl in her year, completely ignoring Katniss and myself.

Glancing around quickly, I grab Katniss' wrist and pull her to the side of the road, interrupting her flow of speech when she squeaks in surprise.

"Hey! Peeta, what are you doing?" She asks, as I pull her into a small grove of willow trees that grow behind an abandoned coal unit. It's similar to the Hob warehouse, but smaller. "Peeta!" Katniss cries. "What are you doing?" She looks around, her grey eyes wide as she observes the long, spindly branches of the willow tree circle that sway in the breeze, their leaves touching the ground.

"Sorry," I say, my heart thumping erratically, my palms sweating.

_Calm down, Peeta! You can do this! You have to this properly._

"I just needed to speak to you. In private. Away from prying eyes." I explain hastily. Katniss narrows her eyes and watches me carefully. Shit. This isn't going well.

"Prim'll be wondering where we are." She says, her brow furrowed.

"She's walking with her friends. She's alright." I reassure her.

"Peeta, what are you doing?" She asks warily.

"Katniss, please just trust me," She purses her lips. I look over her shoulder, wide my eyes and point. "What is _that_?" I exclaim, my mouth dropping open in horror.

Katniss whirls round.

I drop down on one knee and pull out the tiny box my father gave me from my pocket.

"Peeta, what is it?" Katniss asks worriedly, still looking in the direction I was pointing. "I can't see anything-" She turns back to face me and stares, her words trailing off. I smile. Her mouth falls open and she takes a step back, looking confused.

"There was nothing there-" I begin sheepishly, going over the words I've rehearsed a stupid amount of times in my head.

"Jesus, Peeta! You freaked me out!" Katniss interrupts, her eyes flickering swiftly between my face and the box in my palm. "And stand up!"

"Let me talk. No-one can see," I plead. Katniss bites her bottom lip and sighs. "Sorry for, you know, yanking you over here and freaking you out, but I wanted to do this right. I've messed everything up so royally, and launched the idea of marrying you right in your face. So, if you're going to make my life hell, I'll do the same to you," Katniss smiles at this, her frosty exterior cracking.

"And, because I know you can't stand romantic sappy things, I'm proposing to you properly, on one knee on the damp ground and cold, with a ring that I hope fits you because I bugged the blacksmith to get it done and I'm sure he wanted to shove me head-first into the hot coals." I glance down at the band of metal nestled on the plush material inside the ring box. The box was what Dad proposed to Mom with, what my Grandfather proposed to my Grandmother with, and so on. It's another Mellark tradition.

"Basically, what I'm trying to say is this. Katniss Everdeen. Will you please marry me?" I ask, smiling hopefully. Katniss looks down at the ground solemnly, thinking.

"I don't know Peeta." She says quietly. I try to fight the fear in my eyes, but it undoubtedly shows.

"But you said yes yesterday." I tell her, my stomach twisting.

"I know I did, but I don't think that ring is big enough." Katniss frowns.

_What? Is this really happening?_

"Oh, umm…" I stumble. I thought she didn't like flashy, sparkling stuff. That was the entire reason for my persistent begging of the blacksmith.

"Peeta?" Katniss asks. I look up at her. She smiles softly, and then bursts out laughing. Is this some sort of joke to her? "I'm kidding about the ring!" She says. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Katniss, I swear." I mutter, shaking my head. She clutches her swelling stomach through her jacket.

"Peeta, of course I'll marry you. You didn't have to go to all this trouble, though the ring is pretty." She says sympathetically. She starts to say something else, but I'm up from the ground and throwing my arms around her before she can say anything else.

"You're evil, you know that?" I mumble into her hair. She cautiously puts her arms around me.

"I've been told once or twice." She laughs. I pull away and take her left hand, sliding the ring on. Katniss holds it up to the light, admiring the dull gold of the metal, and the way it looks like vines and leaves circling her finger.

"See, you're a big softie inside." I tease. She rolls her eyes, before stepping forward to hug me.

"Thank you, Peeta." She says.

"My pleasure." I say.

"And I don't hate all things romantic and sappy. Just the silly ones." She says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Was this silly?" I ask her. She shakes her head.

"No, this was borderline." She laughs, and I finally laugh along with her, relieved.


	21. Chapter 21: Anguish

**Yet again, thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites! Ahh, teenage angst. Fun times. We've got anguish from seemingly calm Peeta as well in this chappie! I may have enjoyed writing this, but I think you'll hate me after this, and this chapter is a big one! Anyway, on with the story…**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Peeta smells of soap, fresh bread, and vanilla icing. I think I'd be perfectly content with staying in his arms forever.

"We should probably get going. I don't wanna face Effie or Haymitch because we were late." Peeta mumbles into my hair, my skin burning at the spots where his lips brush my ear.

"Can't we just stay here?" I ask. "I mean, I've got Coal Sciences and four hours of Haymitch and Effie to contend with today, and that 's too much to handle." Peeta chuckles.

"Come on, it's Friday. We've got the weekend." Peeta says. I find myself smiling at how both Peeta and I have used the word 'we' in our sentences.

"If I die before the end of the day, it's your fault," I threaten. Peeta grins, pulling away and squeezing my arms. "Thank you." I mumble.

"For what?" Peeta asks, his blue eyes gleaming.

"For everything. For this." I say, looking down at the ring that's currently burning against my finger.

"You're welcome. Thanks for saying yes, again." Peeta says softly, the dappled light permeating the branches of the willow tree making his hair glow.

"I'm a catch, Mellark. Don't let me go." I quirk an eyebrow and Peeta laughs, parting the willow leaves to I can get through.

My heart clenches in the cavity of my chest when I hear him whisper _'I wont' _as we step out into the weak sunshine. I don't think he meant for me to hear that. He graciously carries my bag, slinging it over his shoulder with ease as we walk along. I ask him about his classes, about things like hobbies and interests. I want to learn more about the boy- _the man_- I'm going to marry once he turns seventeen later in the month.

As we walk to school, I find myself noticing small things. Like the way his eyebrows pull together when he's talking about something in great depth, or when he's mad. How he has a single dimple on the right side of his face that only appears when he _really _smiles. My stomach twists, and then slowly brings itself back upright.

"I'll see you in an hour." Peeta smiles to me outside the door of the Coal Sciences room. I nod, but observe that Peeta's grin doesn't reach his eyes. In fact, his usual calm eyes look… _angry._

"See you then." I smile, surprising myself by pressing a soft kiss to Peeta's cheek. I pull away, cheeks bright, and turn to open the door.

"And Miss Everdeen, why are you late?" The teacher asks. I turn and find the corridor empty; Peeta has vanished.

"I'm sorry Miss, I just got sidetracked at home." I apologise. The teacher scowls at me, but returns to explaining the uses of coal. I scamper to my seat, surprised to find Madge sitting there.

"I thought you were in the other science group." I say.

"I know," She shrugs. "But I asked to be moved here."

"Oh." I mumble, sitting down beside her. She eyes my stomach, and then my face.

"So why were you really late?" She asks. I dig around in my bag for my book. "And don't pretend that you weren't with Peeta."

"Shh!" I hiss. "Keep it down."

"Sorry, but are you going to tell me where you were? You're not taking advantage of the fact that you can't get pregnant are you?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Madge!" I cry, pushing her shoulder. "Gross, and it's not like that between us two. We're just friends."

"Friends, yeah. Sure."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Madge looks down at my swollen tummy that's half-hidden by my jacket.

"Oh shut up." I scowl. Madge laughs softly.

"You didn't miss much, but I assume that you were having a good time." She says. I roll my eyes.

"Whatever Madge."

"No, seriously. You always seem to be-" Madge pauses, her eyes wide.

"What?" I ask.

"Is that what I think it is?" She asks, dumbfounded, snatching up my left hand. "Katniss! Is that why you're late?"

"Keep you voice down!" I whisper, trying to pull my hand away from Madge. She keeps a tight grip on my fingers anyway, examining the ring.

"Oh, Katniss. It's beautiful!" Madge coos, looking at me with big eyes. "Where did he do it?"

"He took me to the little willow grove behind the abandoned coal warehouse." I say, the girly excitement from Madge catching on. I pull my hand away and remove thing ring from my finger, turning it over and over.

It's gold, but the metal looks tarnished, well loved. Painstakingly engraved into it are tiny vines and leaves, and set in the middle is a small green gem that sparkles in the light. It's so simple, yet makes me feel warm inside. It shows that Peeta cares. Did he really nag the blacksmith to make it? I can't imagine how much this must have cost. In the Seam, new rings are rare. The father of the bride or groom usually gives the groom the ring that's been passed down from generation to generation. The wedding ring that Dad gave Mom is one of the only things that we haven't sold when times got tough.

"It's so romantic." Madge sighs. I smile back at her.

"It really is."

"I'm happy for you. Despite it being a mistake, I think that something good will come out of this. Peeta is a good guy, he'll take care of you," Madge says, pausing to write something down in her notebook. "Everything will be okay in the end."

"Thank you, Madge," I say, placing a hand on her arm. I decide to try and engage in girl talk. "How's it going with Mitch?" At this, Madge blushes, a smile creeping onto her lips as she continues writing.

"It's going good." She says simply.

"Just good?" I ask. "Madge, you're bright red!"

"Okay, more than good," She says. I nudge her shoulder. "He was trying to teach me how to ride during the weekend."

"Ride?" I ask warily. Madge turns to me, cheeks almost purple she's blushing so hard.

"Katniss!" She hisses. I laugh. "I meant ride a horse, you creep!"

"Okay, okay. I understand." I say.

"And I fell off and he was so worried. He thought my Dad was going to kill him because I fell in the mud but I just laughed," Madge says, a dreamy look appearing in her eyes. "And then I pulled him into the mud too."

"Adorable!" I say sarcastically.

"I could say the same about you and Peeta and drunken after-party fucking." Madge says. I blush at how crudely she puts it.

"Mitch has changed you." I scowl Madge laughs.

"Peeta's changed you too." She tells me.

"How?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Katniss, in all the years I've known you, you've never joined in talking about girl stuff with me. You always let me talk. And now? Now you're pregnant with a Merchant's kid and getting married to him!"

"Okay, maybe I have changed. But I'm sure you would've too if you were in this situation." I say.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't, but you seem so much more relaxed now. You smile more." Madge says, giving me a pointed look.

For the rest of the lesson we take it in turns grilling each other on the state of our relationships. I insist that Peeta and I are only getting married to stop us from becoming complete pariahs. Madge tries to come up with a way of telling her protective father about her relationship with Mitch.

But I'm lost in thought. Yet again, the words of others have sent me into a spin. Madge is right. Normally I would never start a conversation about boys, I would just nod and make the appropriate sounds of agreement whenever Madge paused. I never felt butterflies in my stomach thinking about someone.

However, I'm not completely oblivious to the feelings of others. I'm not a stoic plank of wood. I know Gale feels differently to me than I do to him. To me, Gale is like a brother. We hunt together, we grew up together, and we support each other. And I will never be able to feel a different type of love to him. He's my best friend.

Peeta Mellark, the blonde-haired, blue eyed, broad shouldered prodigy, is another story. Lately, I've been eager to meet with him. Hiding it behind a scowl is difficult, when what I really want to do it push the curls from his eyes and stay wrapped in his arms forever. Back in the willow grove, I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt like I could love back, and be content for the rest of my days. I had to force myself to ignore how Peeta was just the right height to be able to rest his chin on the top of my head, and how I could rest my head on his muscular chest quite comfortably. How when he spoke, the rumbling in his chest caused me to feel funny, but in a good way.

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. These thoughts of Peeta wont do me any good. Mom would tell me to follow my heart, but I've built up so many barriers over the years since the death of my father, that it would take everything a person had to break them down. Will Peeta ever be able to do that? Will I ever learn to wear my heart on my sleeve and let someone in? Peeta is too good- too honest- to ever hurt me.

"Katniss?" Madge asks, shaking my arm.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Come on, the lesson's ended," Madge says. I look up and find that everyone is filtering out of the room. I stand, grab my bag and shove my books inside. "You seemed pretty deep in thought. You alright?" Madge asks.

"I'm fine." I say. We walk out into the corridor and I follow Madge down the corridor. _'I'll see you in an hour.'_ I smile despite myself at the thought, speeding up as we walk to the sports hall.

Effie is dressed in blue today. Blue shoes, blue skirt, blue sparkly top and blue feathers in her perfectly coiffed hair. She stands at the front of the hall and claps her hands, trying to get our attention. Haymitch stands beside her, looking around with a look of annoyance.

"Hey." I hear a voice say softly into my ear. I spin around, and find Peeta standing behind me, a smile on his lips.

"Hi!" I say, earning a nudge in the ribs from Madge. I glare at her and she hides a smile behind her hand.

"You alright?" Peeta asks. I nod, watching as his dimple makes and appearance. "I'm assuming Madge knows?" He asks teasingly.

"You bet I do." Madge says.

"She doesn't miss anything," I roll my eyes. "It's exhausting." Peeta chuckles. Mitch runs up to Madge and she grins, cheeks going pink. I smirk at her and she shakes her head before turning back to Mitch.

"Don't worry. I haven't told Mitch anything yet." Peeta says.

"You're making me feel guilty now." I scowl. Peeta laughs even more. My heart clenches as he folds his arms over his chest. Even through his old wrestling hoodie I can see the flexing of his muscles, evidence of years of work at the bakery.

I find myself comparing Gale to Peeta. Gale is taller than Peeta, but his muscles are less defined due to malnutrition. Gale has stormy grey eyes, and Peeta's are so blue I feel I could get lost in them. Gale's hair is unruly and dark, his skin has a permanent brown hue to it from hours out in the sun, but Peeta has pale skin, with a scattering of freckles over his shoulder blades and back. Gale has scars all over his body from hunting, but Peeta has white scars all up his arms, and most recently, burns that cover his hands. Mom tried to make the flesh heal back to normal, but the salves didn't work. These little things that I notice make me blush.

We find ourselves moving easily into each other's arms as Effie tells us that she will be examining our progress with dancing, and if it's satisfactory, she'll move us on to other dances. Peeta's hand burns into the small of my back as he pulls me close, but never pulling me flush to his body. He chats softly with me as we move in a circle. I feel like we're the only couple in the room that doesn't feel awkward in each other's arms. (Except Madge and Mitch). I find myself wondering what Peeta would do if I moved my hand from his shoulder and put it at his neck, winding my fingers through his hair.

Before I can convince myself that it is a bad idea, I'm doing exactly that. Peeta stiffens momentarily, but carries on talking, his eyes locked on mine. I offer him a soft smile. He squeezes my hand.

"We'll be alright, Katniss," He says. "I'll look after both of you."

"I know you will." I say, my heart breaking.

"Please don't feel like you have to do this because you owe it to me, or Prim. I want you to do this because _you_ want to." He says carefully.

"Trust me, I would've said no if I didn't want to do this," I grin. Peeta takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. I frown. "What is it?" I ask him.

"Nothing."

"Tell me, Peeta." I insist. Peeta takes a deep breath, looking at something over my shoulder before dragging his eyes back to mine.

"Well, you know it's my birthday on Sunday?" He asks. I nod. "My Dad, he insisted that you come round and have dinner. But I told him that you might feel awkward there, and my mother is still being sour, and that you may not want to even come," Peeta looks flustered as he babbles on. "I told him that it wasn't necessary, but he said that I should ask anyway and that-"

"Peeta, I'd love to have dinner." I interrupt.

"You would?" He asks in disbelief.

"Well, yeah. I'm gonna have to face your family at one point, and it's your birthday. I can't not go to my fiancé's birthday dinner." I say.

"You don't have to," Peeta says earnestly. "But my Dad really wants you to come."

"I'll come, Peeta. Don't worry. You can tell your Dad that I'd be honoured." I say.

"Oh, okay. Good, I suppose." Peeta smiles.

"You suppose?" I tease. "I'm beginning to think that you don't want me to come at all!"

"No, I do!" Peeta says.

"Calm down then."

"Okay, sorry. I'll pick you up at five o'clock." Peeta says.

"I'll be waiting." I grin.

School ends quicker than I would have liked and I say goodbye to Peeta and walk home with Prim. She spots the ring on my finger just as we reach the top of the hill that signals the start of the Seam roads.

"I was wondering where you two were! I turned around and 'poof!' you were gone!" She says, looking at the ring with adoration.

"Yeah, sorry about that." I apologise.

"It's beautiful, Katniss. Congratulations." She says softly.

"Sure, the ring may be beautiful, but Sunday isn't going to be." I say, gloomily.

"Sunday?" Prim prompts.

"Yeah. It's Peeta's birthday and he's invited me round for dinner," I explain. "But I have nothing wear and I don't know what to buy him."

"You can get him something for his painting. Or sketching." Prim suggests.

"I'll go to the Hob to get his present, but I still have nothing to wear. I can't go to the Mellarks dressed in a worn dress."

"Ask Madge." Prim says.

"I can't ask Madge!"

"Sure you can. She told me about all the dresses that she has, and that she wanted to get rid of some of them." Prim says.

"Maybe." I shrug, pushing the front door of our house open and dropping my bag by the floor.

"She wont mind Katniss." Prim smiles.

"I know, but you know how I feel about trading things," Prim rolls her eyes. "Anyway. I'm going hunting with Gale. See you later." I say.

"Tell Gale I said hi!" Prim calls after me as I walk left towards the meadow.

"Don't you mean Rory?" I shout back. Prim blushes and shuts the door.

* * *

I meet Gale half way along the line of snares he's set up along a thin, winding animal track in the grass.

"Hey," I greet him. He looks up, a reel of twine in between his lips. He grunts a welcome. "How you doing?" I continue, slinging my quiver over my shoulder.

"I'm good," Gale says standing up and putting the twine into his pocket. "You?"

"Yeah, I'm alright at the moment." I smile.

"Well, since you're in such a good mood, do you want to try and shoot some birds?" Gale suggests.

"If you're happy enough to join me, then yes." I retort. Gale laughs and we venture further into the forest, before doubling back and shooting as we walk back towards the fence.

We chat quietly as we move along, and Gale fills his hand with stones and pebbles as we walk.

"I can see something in the undergrowth." Gale stops me as we reach a small clearing.

"Bird?" I ask.

"Yup. Groosling."

"Yum." I smile, drawing an arrow and readying my bow. Gale throws a stone into the bushes, and sure enough a brown dappled bird squawks and flies into the air. I take my shot and hit it.

"Ooo. You're a bit rusty, Catnip." Gale comments. I climb through the thorns to grab the bird. He's right. I hit it in the side.

"I haven't been out here for ages." I grumble.

But my absence from the woods isn't the only reason for my bad shot. My tummy is growing too fast. It's getting in the way of my arm.

"Where the hell did you get _that_ from?" Gale crows.

"Where did I get what?" I ask.

"That!" Gale says, walking over to me and looking at my hand. Oh shit.

"Oh that old thing?" I brush it off.

"Old? I don't think so. How much did that cost?" Gale continues, lifting my hand. "Christ!"

"Oh, it was just a hand me down." I say.

"Catnip, I know you're lying."

"I'm not." I say stubbornly, walking hurriedly away in the direction of the District boundaries.

"Then why is it on you're left hand? Ring finger?" Gale asks. I stop. I turn. Gale is frowning.

"It's not what you think." I say.

"Bloody hell. Is there something you're not telling me?" Gale asks. I bite my lip. "Are you getting married?" I look up at Gale. He laughs. And then looks at me. "Tell me you're joking." He says gravely.

"I'm getting married." I laugh.

"What the hell, Catnip?" Gale exclaims, striding towards me and snatching up my hand.

Well. This has escalated quickly in a direction is didn't want it to.

"It's more complicated than you think." I start weakly. Gale is fuming, his hand rough on mine.

"More complicated?" He cries. "You're sixteen! What else aren't you telling me?"

_That I'm just over four months pregnant with Peeta Mellark's child. _I think.

"Gale, just listen."

"Who is it?"

"Who's who?" I ask.

"Who are you marrying?"

"I'm not saying anything."

"Did he force you?" Gale growls.

"No I agreed."

"It's Mellark. Isn't it?" He says. I look up. "I'm gonna kill him." Gale says, dropping his game bag and disappearing.

I stand there, shoulders slumped. And then the impact of what Gale is going to do hits me like a tonne of bricks.

"Gale!" I shout into the trees. "Come back!"

* * *

**-Peeta-**

"Did you ask Katniss is she was coming round on Sunday?" Dad asks me as I hold the door open so he can get past with a sack of flour.

"Yup." I nod, following him into the shop.

"She's coming, right?"

"Yeah." I nod.

"Fantastic!"

"Not really. Mom's gonna kill her." I say. Dad sighs heavily.

"If things get real bad, I'm sure no-one will mind if you leave." Dad says, pushing the flour sack onto a pile of others.

"Yeah, but Mom is just, you know."

"I know, Peet. I know. But I'm sure Katniss can handle her," Dad pats me on the shoulder and smiles sadly. "Go help your brothers. I'm sure you'll get a grilling from them."

I nod and run up the stairs to leave my bag in my bedroom. Dad's right. Katniss has a sharp tongue and a steely resolve. I've seen her reduce someone to tears, and she didn't even touch them. Mom and her are going to have a match of who-can-insult-who across the dinner table. It's going to be great.

A sickening sense of panic and fear sets in. I run my hands through my hair and flop down on my bed. What am I going to do? Over these past few months, I've tried to push all my feelings down. So now, I feel like my head is going to explode under the pressure. I've been worried about Katniss and the baby. I've been scared. I've been angry. I've been staying up all night just thinking. I don't know whom I can talk to. Who can I pour my heart out to? Where is the person that will understand all my concerns? Katniss has enough on her plate to contend with, without the burden of he emotional fiancé. I thought the pregnant woman was meant to be the hormonal one.

Fiancé. That word should make me smile, but all it does is make me feel worse. Yes, I'm thrilled that Katniss said yes, but now I'm worrying about actually getting married. If I'm not careful, the slightest thing will set me off, and I wont be able to stop.

All I want is someone to talk to. Mom is a no-go. Fenton and Rye are a possibility, but they're just sarcastic idiots. Dad tries to help, but he doesn't fully understand. Nobody understands. Nobody can help.

Lately I've been feeling like I'm out of place in my own body. The word hijacked comes to mind. Yes, I feel like I'm being controlled. The real Peeta would never have gotten the love of his life pregnant because he can't handle his alcohol. The real Peeta would've known that keeping all this worry pent up inside would result in not sleeping, barely eating. Barely living.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I go back downstairs. It's no good mulling everything over in my head. It'll just make it worse. I've been trapped in my own head for weeks now, and all I need to do is focus on something else.

Fen and Rye are already cutting and shaping dough when I get down to the kitchen. Fen looks up and grins.

"Yo, buddy. How's it going?" He asks.

"Alright." I reply, washing my hands and tying an apron around my waist.

"So, how did the impromptu proposal go?" Rye asks, pushing a tray of cheese buns into the oven. We're baking as much as we can for the Saturday morning rush. Last week we didn't have enough cheese buns. I look down at the mix of flour and water I'm mixing.

"Alright, I guess." I shrug, trying to sound down heartened. An awkward silence fills the room. Fen clears his throat.

"What did Katniss say?" Rye asks warily.

"She agreed to marry me." I say, looking up at my brothers. They exchange relieved glances.

"Way to go little brother!" Fen laughs, clapping my on the shoulder.

"Fen's jealous." Rye says in a singsong voice. "He thought he was the one to get married first...You've beaten him to it."

Fen pulls Rye into a headlock and wrestles him to the ground. I grin and glance out the window.

"He's beaten you too." Fen says, letting his younger brother go. We fall into a comfortable silence for a minute or two before Rye speaks up.

"When are you planning on telling people?" He asks.

"I don't know," I admit. "I can tell that Katniss is scared, though she tries to hide it."

"People will find out eventually." Fen says.

"I know." I whisper, looking down.

"Are you happy?" Fen asks. "I mean, if this had happened to me when I was sixteen, I don't know what I would've done."

"I would have freaked out." Rye adds. I pause for a moment before answering.

"To be honest, I'm terrified. Happy? Yeah, I guess. But I know Katniss isn't." I bite my lip.

"She agreed to marry you, Peet. If she wasn't at least a little bit happy I'm sure she wouldn't agree... You're a good guy Peeta. I think she knows that." Fen says quietly.

"This is my fault." I mutter.

"No shit..." Rye scoffs. I punch him on the arm.

"She wasn't even invited to that party! But, of course I had to convince her to come anyway. And then we got drunk... and... and…" I trail off, all the happiness I felt throughout the day, knowing that Katniss had said yes. And she wasn't ignoring me. And that she actually seemed to be content.

"And the rest is history."

"I'm sure you'll be alright in the end Peet." My oldest brother says, leaning against the doorway as he waits for the oven timer to go off. "You'll see."

I damn well hope so.

Fen smiles at me and I frown in return. I can feel the fear inside me growing, bubbling and morphing into pure anger.

"Katniss seems alright, and you two are both smart." Rye says.

I clench my fists.

_Calm down! _I think to myself. _Loosing it will just make it worse!_

"And you'll always have Dad and us two," Fen points between Rye and himself. "To support you- even if Mom isn't as compliant." I grit my teeth. "You'll be fine."

"What are you trying to tell me, Fen?" I explode, loosing the strength to curb my anger. Fen's eyes widen and Rye puts the trays he's holding down on the countertop. I scrub my face with my hands.

_Get a grip, Mellark! _

"Are you trying to tell me that this whole situation will be forgotten? That people will move on?" I take a step forward and Fen pushes himself upright from his position against the doorframe.

"We're sixteen! _Sixteen_! And I knocked her up." I flex my fingers. "Our lives are set in stone now. I can't leave her, 'cause if I do she'll have to raise _my_ child by herself! How can _anyone_ in their right mind get over that? I will have to see her, every single day, attached to me because of what I did to her! She can't live her own life any more, Fen. And you're telling me everything is going to be alright?"

My hand connects with the plaster wall beside me before I can even register what I'm doing. The paint and plaster board cracks with a satisfying 'crunch' sound, leaving a splintered dent in the wall the size of my fist. The entire room is silent. Mom is gonna kill me too, not just Katniss.

"Okay, whoa." Rye says, stepping forward, his arms stretched out. Fen looks bewildered. He's getting yelled at by his sixteen-year-old brother. "Peeta, buddy, I think you need to calm down."

"Shut up!" I shout, clutching at my head. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I chant, dropping to the floor into a crouch, my head in my hands. Fen and Rye walk over to me, crouching beside me as I slump against the wall, my chest heaving. "I'm sorry." I mumble, feeling embarrassed as tears fall down my cheeks. What have I done?

"It's nothing," Fen brushes it off. "You must be stressed out."

"I just don't know what to do." I whisper.

"You'll figure it out when you get there." Fen says, his hands clasped together. Both my brothers don't know quite how to comfort their younger brother. I've always been closer to my father, and Rye and Fen are like best friends. We've never been super close or anything.

I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head back against the whitewashed wall behind me. I take a deep breath.

"You should... err... go and man the shop." I say. "It's not like Mom's going to." Rye places a consoling hand on my arm. They take my not-so-subtle hint to give me some space and leave the room. Fen takes the liberty of shutting the heavy fire door firmly.

I open my eyes and stare at the red square tiles on the floor. I sigh, push myself up and scrub my face with my hands.

Rye and Fen can be heard, muffled but undoubtedly laughing with my father, the till ringing as they exchange money with a customer. I can't believe that I shouted at Fen like that. He was only trying to help.

The last time I shouted at either of my brothers as loudly and angrily as that was a few years ago, when Rye convinced me that I should start shaving.

I was twelve. I had taken him seriously and ended up cutting my face with the sharp razor blade. And then, when I ran into his room crying, he told me that I should put aftershave on. I complied. But it the liquid in the bottle wasn't aftershave. Rye had switched it to the colouring we use for icing. It stained your fingers like crazy. Rye switched it to blue dye.

Blue.

_Bright blue._

I looked like an alien. Rye, of course, found it hilarious when I came into the bakery half an hour later with blue skin. I was blue skinned for an entire week. Let's just say Mom was just as pleased as I was.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when the back door of the bakery -where Katniss normally trades with my father or I- swings open with a crash. I spin around, a shout of 'what the hell?' on the tip of my tongue, when Gale Hawthorne marches up to me.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" He yells at the top of his lungs, eyes blazing.

"Wha-" I stutter.

"Tell me!" He interrupts, striding across the kitchen in four strides and pinning me up against the wall, the front of my shirt bunched up in his fists. "Did you force her?"

"Calm the hell down!" I exclaim, holding my hands up in the air in a defensive gesture. "What are you talking about?"

"Katniss! She's marrying you? Why?" Gale spits, his eyes wild.

"I haven't forced her to do anything!" I say. "I would never force her- anyone- to do that. She agreed to it!" I explain. "I asked and she said yes!"

This seems to throw Gale off course for a moment and his grey Seam eyes widen. His face is inches from mine and he's 2 inches taller than me. This combined with the fact that he's angrier than I ever thought a person could be, my words come out garbled, like an old woman.

"But she wouldn't do that," Gale whispers bitterly. "She told me… She said she never wanted to get married." He looks up at me.

"Talk to her, Gale." I say.

"No," He mutters, tightening his grip on my shirt. "You tell me, Mellark."

"I really think you should ask Katniss…" I mumble.

"No. I want to hear it from you." Gale laughs joylessly.

'_Shit, shit, shit.' _ I think to myself. I glance at the back door where snowflakes are wafting inside, and then at the door leading to the shop, and then back at the very angry Seam kid holding me against the wall. I decide to stay put.

"I'm waiting." Gale encourages. I sigh.

"Why are you making me say it?"

"Because I want to hear it from the idiot she's marrying."

"Gee, thanks." I mutter.

"I'm sure that if you just asked her-"

"Tell me the truth," Gale says, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "I know that she wouldn't marry you, out of _love_." I look down, my heart clenching. "You know that isn't why." Gale continues. "So, tell me the reason."

"Ask Katniss." I say firmly. I _do not_ want to have this conversation.

"I'm going to have to get it out of you, one way or another." Gale growls.

I exhale and squeeze my eyes shut. I make my decision.

"It wasn't her fault." I say. Gale frowns. "I never meant to hurt her, or put her in this position…"

"What do you mean?" Gale says, shaking my collar and glaring at me. "If you've so much as touched her, or- or- or hurt her, you'll be sorry."

"Katniss, she and I will be pariahs if we don't get married." I say hurriedly with a shake my head. "People will start to talk if she has a kid, but isn't married."

Gale takes a step back, releasing me from his grip. He stumbles backwards a couple of steps, his mouth open in surprise.

"What?" Gale looks up at me in astonishment.

"What?" I repeat in confusion. What the fuck is going on?

"She's pregnant?" He asks.

This is the worst that could have ever happened. She hasn't told her hunting partner? Oh, fuck. I'm in deep shit now.

"I thought you knew!" I say. "I thought Katniss had told you and you didn't believe her!"

"With _your_ kid," Gale mumbles, locking his jaw. "You… and she… and you…" He trails off and his eyes lock on my face. I don't think I've ever seen someone so angry.

"You bastard!" He roars, launching himself towards me and knocking my backwards. "You knocked her up!" I push him back, my hands on his shoulders and barely have enough time to regain my balance when Gale's fist connects with my jaw.

I've been hit many times by my mother and adapted so that I can now barely feel the pain I should normally feel. I would never hit a woman in retaliation, but this fight is in a whole new domain. I go for a punch in the older boy's stomach and catch him off guard when I grab his arm and twist it backwards instead, the joints in his elbow making a clicking sound. He yells out and I pull his arm further.

"This isn't Katniss' fault!" I shout desperately, trying to get my words out before Gale figures out how to get out of my arm lock.

"Damn right it isn't!" Gale hisses through gritted teeth.

"It was a drunken mistake." I say. "And I wish it had never happened."

Gale's shoulder's slump, but I know that this fight isn't over. I've wrestled since I was eleven, and having two older brothers teaches you not to give in. Gale twists around and tries to kick me in the stomach, but I jump out of the way before he can touch me.

"Oh… You wanna play dirty? Huh?" Gale laughs. His arm swings round for another hit but takes _me _off-guard when he switches arms at the last moment a punches me in the stomach. I move my bare fists up to cover my face.

Gale lashes out again, and we tussle from a few seconds, none of us really getting anywhere.

"Gale! Get off him!" A loud, hysterical voice cries. Katniss bursts into the room through the door Gale came from, skidding on the snow-covered tiles towards us and attempting to pull Gale off me. Gale pushes her out of the way and she stumbles backwards, catching herself on the kitchen table.

"Gale!" She shouts, pulling at the back of Hawthorne's shirt and yanking. But it's useless. She locks eyes with me and my chest physically hurts at the anguish in her eyes. She turns pushing open the fire door. Where is she going? And then I hear her shouts of help from the corridor.


	22. Chapter 22: Unraveling

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait! I've been ill for the past few days and haven't had the energy to write! Thank you for all your reviews, everyone who has favourited and followed, and for everyone who has read my story. In regard to _kitty4600_'s question: Actually the Hunger Games don't exist :) All the Gale haters made me laugh, so thanks ;) Proceed…**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

My heart is pounding as I race through the forest. It starts to snow, the white flakes falling steadily from the grey sky. Before long, the district will be blanketed in a deep layer of snow, the drifts piling up. Hunting will be almost impossible. I'm glad to have been hunting, I need the extra meat. The stuff Mom has been storing wont last us.

I slide under the fence and race across the meadow. Gale is a fast runner- he always won the races held at school, his long legs and practice from escaping from packs of wild dogs over the years giving him an advantage that's almost unfair.

I continue to run, down through the Seam. There are children squealing in delight, grabbing at the snowflakes with their bony hands. Following the road that joins the Seam to the Merchant quarters, I rush past countless staring people. But I find, to my dismay, that I can't run as fast as I used to for as long, and end up having to slow down and catch my breath. If I'm struggling to run now, what am I going to do in a few months? The cold air is streaming past my face, making my eyes water, tears dribble down my cheeks.

Gale is angry. I saw it in his eyes. He's angrier than furious, and when Gale gets this way, he gets reckless. My head spins as I imagine what he could be doing to Peeta at this very moment. Surely the rest of the Mellarks will be home. Maybe, just maybe, Gale won't even get to touch Peeta. Maybe he'll just be shouting, restrained by Fen or Rye or Mr Mellark. I find that thinking this is better than imagining a bare knuckle fight.

Finally I spot the bakery and nearly cry out in joy, running senselessly down the alleyway. I pass the apple tree outside the bakery, run up past the pigpen and skid through the doorway of the bakery's kitchen.

"Peeta!" I gasp, my eyes wide. Gale has Peeta up against the wall by the collar of his shirt. Peeta has a split lip. But he doesn't seem to be even trying to fight back. Gale throws another sharp punch into Peeta's stomach. Peeta has no expression on his face until Gale knees him in the groin. He grimaces and curls in on himself, sliding down the wall. Gale kicks him. I run forward.

"Gale! Get off him!" I exclaim. Frantically I pull at Gale's arm, attempting to stop him from hitting Peeta again. He nudges me out of the way and I stumble backwards. Catching myself on the edge of the kitchen table and steadying myself, I stand upright and yank at Gale's shirt. "Gale!"

Stepping back, I run my hands through my hair in distress. Peeta is just taking each punch, like he can't feel them. He could easily fight back, unlike me. I'm small and weak and useless against Gale's rage. My eyes lock with Peeta's and the look in his eyes almost kills me. I clutch at my chest, feeling a sharp pain shoot through me.

I turn on my heel and pull the heavy fire door open. Racing forward, past the staircase, I burst into the front of the shop.

"Katniss?" Mr Mellark asks, confused. Rye and Fen look up from where they're counting money by the till. "What are you doing here? Why are you crying?"

"Please! I'm not strong enough to pull him off," I cry, tears flowing freely down my cheeks now. "Peeta- Gale…" I don't continue speaking and run back into the kitchen, Peeta's brothers and father hot on my trail.

"Hey!" Mr Mellark shouts, seeing Gale and Peeta fighting viciously. Peeta has at last begun to retaliate. Gale's shirt is ripped. "Stop it!"

Working together, Fen and Mr Mellark tear a fuming Gale from Peeta. Rye helps his younger brother up.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Peeta's father shouts, his usually calm demeanour turning furious. Gale tries to pull himself free, glaring at Peeta.

"You fucked my best friend!" He shouts.

"You don't own her!" Peeta says back.

"And you think that fighting with resolve something?" I yell, stepping closer to Gale and jabbing my finger into Gale's chest with as much force as I can. "How could you do this?"

"Catnip, you're my best friend and you didn't tell me!" Gale says, his grey eyes sorrowful.

"Don't 'Catnip' me." I hiss.

"Please, Katniss…"

"I didn't want to tell you anything before I figured out everything else myself! I can't believe you've done this! I knew you'd be pissed as hell, but for fucks sake! Grow up!" I throw my hands in the air. "What did you think this would do? Make me leave Peeta? Jesus Christ, that's the last thing I'm going to do. I'm going to stand up for him because he's been nothing but a man all this time, unlike you." I let out a loud breath. "How's this for spontaneous and exciting?" I add sarcastically.

"Lemme go." Gale mutters after a moment of silence, shaking himself free. Just when everyone thinks that the fighting is over, Gale flies forward and Peeta thumps against the wall. Gale throws punches with lightening speed.

"Gale!" I shout, running forward, only to get jabbed in the stomach by Gale's elbow. I hold my tummy and wince. Peeta sees this and pure anger washes over him as he pushes Gale back. The look on Gale's face is one of surprise.

"Are you intent or harming her?" He asks, punching Gale square in the face.

"Son! That's enough!" Mr Mellark snaps as all three of the other Mellarks rush forward and separate Gale and Peeta, shoving Gale outside.

"Let me at him!" Peeta protests. I step in front of him and push against his heaving chest, trying to restrain him.

"Peeta, please." I whisper, looking up at him. He softens.

"Are you alright?" He fusses, the Peeta I know and have come to love coming back from under the violent mask I just saw. He takes my hands, his eyes worried.

"I'm fine, we're okay," I shake my head. "What happened?"

"He just started yelling. I'm sorry." Peeta says softly.

"Stop apologising," I say, wrapping my arms around Peeta. He winces. "Where does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt."

"Stop trying to be the hero all the time. Even heroes get hurt." I tell him. He chuckles softly, resting his chin on my head.

"Are you alright, Peet?" Mr Mellark asks, coming back into the room.

"I'm fine. Is Hawthorne gone?"

"Yeah, I told him not to come back here until he'd grown up a little." Peeta's father nods.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Fen asks.

"You're bleeding." Rye says, tapping his lip. I look up as Peeta wipes his hand over his mouth, wincing and running his tongue over his bottom lip.

"I'm alright," Peeta insists. "Really, I am." I pull away, feeling awkward. I've blurted out that the last thing I would do is abandon Peeta. Undoubtedly I'll be asked about that.

"Lets go man the shop, we should probably start closing up." Mr Mellark says. Rye and Fen pat their brother on the shoulder as they pass. Mr Mellark pauses at the door, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the doorframe before turning to face us.

"You care about my son, don't you?" He asks me.

"Dad…" Peeta mumbles, gripping my hand tightly.

"Yes, sir. I do." I say quietly.

"Good, because he cares about you too," Mr Mellark nods his head. "And call me Farrell, please."

Peeta and I are left alone in the room together. I take a deep breath.

"Well, we certainly can't seem to get out of the way of drama, do we?" I laugh. Peeta smiles, watching me. "What?" I ask,

"So you do care." Peeta says.

"Uh, I couldn't exactly say no in front of your Dad."

"But you still care, and that's what matters." Peeta smiles. I blush and look down.

"I'm gonna get a rag for your lip." I say, biting my lip and moving towards the kitchen sink.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Despite my Dad embarrassing me, I'm happy that finally, Katniss has said that she cares. She yelled at her best friend and said that she was going to stick up for me over him.

And to me, that means the world.

"I'm sorry, Katniss." I say, following her to the sink. She runs a rag under the tap, turning it in her hands.

"Stop apologising. This isn't your fault. I didn't know Gale would do this." She says solemnly. "Sit down." She instructs, guiding me over to a sit on a stool.

"But this is my fault." I say, wincing when she presses the damp cloth to my lip.

"You're gonna have a really swollen lip." She murmurs. "What happened?"

"I told you. Hawthorne burst in and started yelling at me." I explain. "I didn't know that he didn't know about the baby." Katniss tilts her head to one side, her beautiful grey eyes welling up. She's still in her hunting clothes, her knees muddy and a leaf in her hair. I bring my hand up to her braid and pull it out. She smiles at me, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"I didn't want to tell him." She admits quietly. "I was frightened of what he would think, what he would do."

"He would've found out eventually." I remark.

"I know. But I just wish this hadn't happened." She pauses and places a hand on my forehead to brush my hair from my face. She dabs at my jaw line and cheek.

"Gale's worst for wear- trust me." I smirk. Katniss laughs lightly.

"Don't big yourself up," She nudges me before getting up. "Do you have any ice?"

"Yeah, in the refrigerators in the basement." I say.

"I'll go and get some. Sit tight." Katniss says thoughtfully. "We need to keep the swelling down." She glances at me and leaves the room just as Dad pokes his head through the door and walks towards me.

"She cares about you." He says, pulling a stack of trays from a shelf.

"Not in the same way as I do about her." I reply.

"But she still cares." My father points out. Katniss re-enters the room, and Dad leaves. I sigh in relief when Katniss presses a bag of ice against my jaw, the cold soothing my skin.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I ask Katniss. She smiles at me, looking down at her stomach. "I'm alright," She mumbles. "I've taken worse tumbles than that."

"I'm sorry, Katniss," I say, looking down at my lap. "I'm sorry for doing this to you."

"It was my fault too," Katniss admits, a small smile on her lips. "I kissed you first."

"But I was the older one, the one with more authority." I insist.

"Oh, I see," Katniss says, raising an eyebrow and taking the ice pack from me. "Now you're making up excuses. Older? More authority?" She laughs. I chuckle lightly, but stop immediately, my face aching.

"Ouch."

"I wish I knew more about medicines… I'd be able to help you."

"You've done great. It's just my lip." I say softly.

"Stop laughing." Katniss advises with a smile.

"I'll try." I grin.

"Peeta, I'm sorry." She mutters.

"For what?" I ask. Katniss sighs and leans back in her chair.

"For ruining your life. I've brought this on to you."

"No, Katniss. Don't think that," I say. "Besides, I'm the one causing trouble."

"No you aren't. You're a saint. You're nice to everyone." Katniss smiles. I shake my head.

"You've got it all wrong. I yelled at Fen today, before Gale decided to visit." I grimace.

"Why would you yell?" Katniss asks. "You're a good guy."

"That's what you might think. But I was just stressing about you coming over. Mom's gonna be horrible. And I don't want you to be yelled at."

"I think I can yell back," Katniss teases. "You know that."

"I do know that."

"Just keep the ice on, and it should keep the swelling down. I'm sorry about Gale." Katniss says.

"You know that I'll always be there for you. I wont give up." I promise. "I shouldn't have asked you to marry me."

"Why not?" Katniss asks.

"Because you shouldn't have to be proposed to at sixteen… You don't have to marry me, Katniss. Please don't think you do." I mumble. Katniss twists her fingers together in her lap. She sighs.

"Please believe me, Peeta, when I say that I'm marrying you because I _want_ to." Katniss says, her eyes wide and thoughtful.

"Don't do this if you don't want it." I say.

Katniss is silent for what seems like an eternity.

"There are so many things I don't know if I want," She begins gently. "But one thing I _know_ I want is to marry you."

"Why?" I ask, wanting an honest answer.

"Because, like you've told me so many times, you will look after me, and the baby."

"Katniss-"

"And I'll do my best to look after you too." Katniss smiles. My heart splits in two and I grin.

"Prim's probably wondering where I am." Katniss grimaces.

"Tell her that I'm sorry for keeping you."

"I don't really want to go. I feel guilty for having to leave." She says sadly.

"I'm alright. I'll see you Sunday."

"Your birthday, right?" Katniss asks.

"Yup."

"I'll see you then, Peeta." Katniss says, squeezing my hand and pressing a soft kiss to a bruise below my eye. Her cheeks redden and she grabs her bag before dodging out of the kitchen, into the shadows. I walk to the door and wait for her to turn the corner, the snow falling in flurries.


	23. Chapter 23: Baby Blues Part 1

**Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites! Your get well soon messages made my day! This chapter is in Katniss' POV, but there will be more of Peeta in the next chapter- the whole thing may be entirely Peeta! And, a big Happy Birthday to _yogscastfan2781_! I hope this is a satisfactory birthday chapter ;)**

***Note* This chapter and the next were meant to be one massive chapter of 9000 words plus, but I had to halve it due to uploading issues!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

At exactly eleven a.m., Madge opens the polished front door of her mansion home, her golden hair tied back with a bow and a her dress freshly pressed, and ushers Prim and myself inside.

"Leave your shoes and coats by the door." She says, padding along the long marble-pillared corridor, the sound of her footsteps muffled by a fluffy cream carpet covering the floor. We gladly follow her instructions, eager to get out of the cold. It snowed during the night, only an inch or so, but enough to mean that winter was well and truly here. And that I had a few days, hopefully, left over to hunt.

I pull my shoes off and hang my jacket, looking in dismay at how grubby Prim and mine's clothes look compared to the fur coats and rows of shoes that the Undersees own. Prim walks ahead with Madge, talking excitedly about Christmas. It makes me sad. Sad to know that while Merchants will be having a Christmas with an abundance of food, a warm house and presents come Christmas morning, the Seam folk will be trying to stay warm, drinking melted snow and eating stew and possibly a cake with their friends and family. Presents are small things, often homemade, like dolls and little wooden cars. Last year I asked Sae to make Prim a doll in exchange for wild boar meat. Prim still has it, tucked underneath her pillow, pretending to be too old for dolls.

A picture painted onto a square canvas hanging from the wall catches my eye. I pause to examine it. It's beautifully done, the brush strokes placed with the grace only a seasoned artist could have. It's a picture of a vase of blood-red roses; the blue-tinted glass looks real, the flower petals curving just gently. I find myself almost reaching out to pluck a flower from the picture. I blink. Hidden, just at the corner of the bouquet, hidden in-between the roses, is a single small flower that's unlike the rest. It's a Katniss flower. What is that doing there?

"You like it?" Madge asks. I look along the corridor. Madge is walking towards me with a smile on her face.

"It's amazing." I murmur.

"The artist is talented." Madge observes.

"Why is there a Katniss flower?" I ask. Madge walks over to me and examines the painting.

"So there is," She says softly. "I'm not sure why there is. You should ask the painter."

"As if I'm going to the Capitol anytime soon," I snort. "How can I ask the artist?"

"Oh, this isn't a Capitol painting," Madge says. I look at her in surprise. "It was done by the one and only, Peeta Mellark."

"He did this?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Yup," Madge nods fondly. "We have one piece of artwork from the Capitol, and that's in the drawing room. The rest is all by Peeta."

"I knew he could draw- and ice cakes- but I didn't know he did all this." I say, spreading my arms wide.

"My father pays him to paint. He actually painted a portrait of me once- it was mortifying." Madge blushes.

"Wow." I say softly.

"You should ask him about the Katniss flower, you know. The answer may surprise you." My friend tells me, looping her arm through mine and pulling me down the corridor.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, but he painted this a couple of years ago. I find it strange to think that there's a Katniss flower among the roses."

"I think it spoils the painting. An ugly Katniss flower among delicate roses." I mutter. Madge backhands my arm and pulls me up the hardwood staircase. I trail my hand over the cool, smooth banister, marvelling at the sheer size of this building. And in the Capitol, it's considered modest.

Madge wasn't lying when she said that Peeta painted a lot. Up the staircase there are several other drawings. Madge refuses to talk about her portrait that sits at the top of the stairs alongside ones of her parents. Once we reach Madge's bedroom, I find Prim pressing the keys of a shiny piano that sits on a raised podium in the corner of Madge's room, in front of huge windows.

"Prim! Don't mess with Madge's stuff." I scold. Prim gives me a withering look.

"It's alright, I said she could have a go." Madge tells me.

"You play?"

"A little. I'm not very good." Madge says humbly.

"I bet you're great," I say. "You're just putting yourself down."

"Play something!" Prim suggests, standing and pulling Madge over to sit beside her on a bench. Madge clears her throat, her cheeks pink, and places her fingers of the keys, pressing them in turn to create a beautiful melody that fills the room.

"Wow, Madge, that was beautiful." I say when she's finished.

"Thanks," Madge says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "My mother taught me."

"She's very talented." Prim pipes up. Madge gives her my sister a soft look.

Half an hour later, Prim, Madge and I are sitting cross-legged on her softer than soft bed, eating sandwiches. Katniss tries to eat slowly, as if sandwiches like these aren't rare. Prim attacks them as gracefully as possible. Madge opens a large can of pears and places it in the middle.

"This is really delicious." Prim comments, touching her finger to her tongue to mop up the rest of the crumbs from her plate before moving on the eat some of the fruit.

"You've got Cook to thank for this, not me. I can barely toast bread." Madge chuckles.

"Katniss is alright, I suppose." Prim giggles. I scowl.

"Shut up and eat you pears." I say, causing my sister and friend to smirk to each other.

* * *

Prim provides a soundtrack of random key smashes and off key singing as Madge pushes me- despite my protests- into her ridiculous walk-in wardrobe.

"Prim told me that you had invited us round for lunch!"

"Yes, lunch and to borrow something to wear to Peeta's birthday!" Madge says.

"You're welcome!" Prim called from the piano. I mime strangling my little sister and her scheming ways in mid-air. Madge walks along a row of clothes.

"Madge, I didn't think I was going to be here for long. I need to go to the Hob and get Peeta's present!" I explain. "I've got to get going."

"Katniss, you've got ages until Peeta is going to be picking you up," Madge rolls her eyes. "Stop worrying, for goodness sake."

Flouncing down onto a pale pink pouf, I watch as Madge glances from me to the racks of clothes in front of her. It's silly, the amount of clothes she has. She has enough dresses to wear two different gowns each day for a year. There are simple ones that I assume Madge wears around the house, though I would have to save up for many weeks before I could buy some material, and even then it wouldn't be as fine a quality as these outfits.

Next, hung in colour order on another rack, is a collection of nicer dresses, ones that are made of lace, silk and other materials I have never heard of, let alone seen. These are used for small events like family get-togethers.

Lastly, the biggest set of all, the dresses that are extremely expensive, the kind that I will never wear. You get to see them on Capitol TV shows and when the President's Annual Speech is broadcasted, you get a glimpse of the Capitol fashions. These clothes here are understated in comparison, but in District 12, they're some of the finest things we have. These garments are heavy things, with puffy skirts encrusted with jewels and gems and made of fine shimmering materials. I spot a sparkling silver number that is figure hugging and would touch the floor. I stand and pull it out.

"You haven't worn this, have you?" I ask Madge.

"Definitely not!" She snorts. "I was given this by a person in 1. They thought I would wear it. I never did."

"You've been to other districts?" I ask, surprised.

No one is allowed to other districts. I don't know why. What's so harmful about visiting? Instead we're caged in, like animals.

"No. Of course I haven't. My Dad took is back when he visited 1 for a meeting with the district mayor over there."

"How many of these dresses are from other districts?" I ask.

"Only two. This one," She points at the silver one. "And this green one is from District 4. Finnick Odair himself," She smiles fondly. "And this is from District 7." Madge picks up a bracelet from its velvet stand and hands it to me.

The bracelet looks like it's made from pieces of orange jewels, but there's something different about it.

"They're amber crystals. The cut down trees and use to resin to make jewellery. If you look closely, you can see the insects that got stuck." Madge tells me. I hold the beads up to the light and gaze at the insects that drowned in the shining stone.

"You should wear this." Madge says, holding up a bright pink dress with a ruffled net skirt. Jewels cover the corset, making the dress weigh more than myself.

"Uh, I'd rather die," I laugh. Madge rolls her eyes. "I mean, it's a beautiful dress, but not for me."

"Or for Peeta," Madge grins. "I think he'd like you in something simpler. Something more… _you_. Something more District 12."

"I really don't feel comfortable taking your things, Madge. I want to trade it for something." I mumble, trailing my hand over the shiny surface of the wardrobe.

"You only trade when you are taking something. Since you're not taking, just _borrowing_, I don't need any trade." Madge smiles at me and continues looking slowly through the rack.

I bite my lip. All my life, I've had things taken from me. My father, my family, my future, my freedom. The Capitol is what took those things from me.

I was so sick of things being taken, just like my father, so he taught me that you couldn't take with out giving something. Trading was what made it fair. And now, that mindset has stuck with me.

I find it difficult to accept gifts, or displays of affection without thinking something is up. That karma will strike in a horrid, twisted form, minutes, days or even years down the line.

"Please, Katniss. I don't mind you borrowing anything." Madge smiles. I swallow and twist the end of my braid in my fingers.

"Alright. But I'm bringing you strawberries come spring." I say. Madge smiles.

"You always bring me strawberries. My Dad and I love them."

"I'll bring you more. And for a lower price."

"Katniss, you aren't taking from me. You're borrowing. Stop fretting, please." Madge looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and pleading. I nod my head and she smirks, pulling a dress from the rack.

Compared to all the other brightly coloured dresses, this one is simple in design. The soft material is pale brown, almost tan, and comes in tight below my breasts, allowing the material to fall over my stomach without it being obvious that there's a baby growing within me.

"It's pretty, but practical." Madge grins, handing me the dress. I turn it over in my hands, admiring the lace back.

"It's perfect, Madge. Thank you." I say.

"Come on, you need to try it on." My friend says. I'll wait with Prim and you can come out and show us," Madge moves away, and begins drawing a curtain that cuts off the walk-in wardrobe from the main room. "We've got to give our opinion before you go wearing it in front of your fiancé." She winks, before closing the curtains.

Swiftly I pull the dress on, feeling the dress slide over my skin. I've never felt anything so luxurious before. It must be nice to have this all the time.

"Are you ready, Katniss?" Prim's disembodied voice floats through the curtain.

"Yep." I call back, taking a deep breath and stepping into Madge's bedroom.

"You look beautiful!" My friend says, a smile on her face.

"Katniss you look amazing!" Prim says, standing and coming towards me, her eyes roaming over the outfit.

"I'm going to a birthday dinner, no getting married!" I blurt out, embarrassed.

"Katniss, you are getting marr-" Prim starts, raising her eyebrows. I cover my face with my hand and groan.

"Oh, God. I am, aren't I?" I say.

"You can get a dress from me for that too, if you want." Madge says.

"When the time comes for marrying Peeta, I'm going to wear my muddiest pants, my most blood-stained jacket, and my hunting boots." I declare.

"I don't think anyone would be surprised." Madge laughs.

"Does it look alright?" I ask warily, removing my hands and looking down at the dress. It skims the top of my knees and curves into a Bateau neckline that displays the shadows underneath my collarbones.

"It looks lovely, Katniss. Peeta will be thrilled."


	24. Chapter 24: Baby Blues Part 2

And here's the second part!

Prim and I leave Madge's house shortly after. I carry the dress carefully over one arm. Prim babbles on about Madge teaching her a few chords on the piano. Once I get home, Mom and Prim start to sew up a pile of garments and bedclothes that have holes in them, leaving me to disappear into the forest.

The snow has melted a little, but the frosty bite of winter is still hanging in the air. My boots make a crunching sound as I walk through the Seam. The cold is seeping into my skin, even through my jacket. If I don't get moving soon, I'll start to get too cold. That wont be good- for the baby or me. I realise with a slight jolt that I need to start thinking. I can't go hunting like I used to. I can't let this baby get hurt.

I slide under fence with extra care, lifting the sharp metal as high as it will go. Once in the forest, I find that there is less snow on the ground, the canopy above protecting the needle covered ground. Quickly I find my bow and arrows, moving as quickly as I can to stay warm, but quiet enough so I don't disturb the forest around me. Before long I have a good haul, especially for this time of year, and I sit down on a fallen tree to pluck a groosling of its thick winter coat.

Once I've finished skinning and plucking my game, I head to the Hob. I still need to get Peeta a present. I'm going to hopefully trade something in for something Peeta can use for his art. After seeing the paintings in Madge's house, I've been wanting o get something Peeta can use to create the amazing images I've seen framed. I know nothing about art. When I was in First School, I always struggled to draw. While my classmates' scribbles away with brightly coloured wax crayons and chalk, I sat there, my pencil hovering over the piece of paper, unable to draw anything.

I can remember being jealous of Peeta Mellark, the blonde baker's son who could draw like he was put in Panem specifically to be an artist. He'd always draw something for someone. His teacher. His friends. His father. But never his mother or brothers. And never me.

I caught him staring at me enough times to know that I wasn't just spotting him when he looked in my direction by coincidence. His cheeks would turn pink when we caught each other's eyes, grey on blue. In class, I could sometimes feel his eyes on me. It made me squirm. It made me confused. Why was this boy staring at _me_?

Aged ten, Peeta had acquired his first 'girlfriend'. All it was was a daylong relationship of a kiss on the cheek, holding hands and giggling. But as we grew up, he had only two other companions. And they never lasted long. Rumour was that he had his eye on someone else. Gale's words from weeks ago spring to mind like a spring under pressure. Does Peeta like me? As in _like_ _like_ me?

Shaking my head, I try to push these ideas to the back of mind. Whether I like these ideas or not, I'm yet to decide.

A_A_A_A

The Hob is always packed at this time of year with people trying to stock up on whatever they can, whether that be firewood or broth. Some people are even buying things for Christmas. I can only hope that someone is this massive warehouse will be selling something that I can give to Peeta. I walk through the crowds of people, searching all of the booths on offer. I reach a small one at the side of Hob, the table laden down with an array of objects. There are bowls of beads and buttons, boxes containing who knows what and racks of knives, hammers and other tools.

"And why would you be looking 'ere?" The vendor asks, his voice gravely, the wrinkles creasing his skin lined with coal dust. I blink. I've never been here before. I've never seen this man before, and he looks as old as time itself.

"I'm looking for a gift." I say. The man chuckles.

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

"Oh, um. He's an artist," I begin. The man raises an eyebrow. "He likes painting, and drawing. He's good at it too."

"So what are you looking for?"

"I'm not exactly sure. A sketchpad? Pencils?" The man frowns as I speak, his eyes only brightening when I say pencils.

"Pencils? I think I have just the thing." He nods, standing, his bones creaking. Like so many old Seam residents, this man has a grotesquely hunched back, his spine warped from a lifetime in those tiny, choking tunnels. I watch as his withered hands rummage through the boxes behind the table.

"You do?" I ask, surprised to say the least. Although you can get almost anything from this place with a bit of perseverance, some things, like luxury items such as good quality pencils, are rare. At school, we're issued with a year's supply of pencils per year. And these are practically just lumps of wood that give you blisters. By the end of the year, your hands have softened the wood, and the wood has hardened the skin of your hand. These pencils break easily and are barely suitable for schoolwork.

"I've had this old thing for years. Always wondered if anyone would come lookin'," The man smiles, leaning over to hand me a small rectangular tin. It's about the size of my foot, made of a rusty looking metal. The man wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Go on. Open it." He prompts. I sling my bag over my arm and pop the tin open. The lid swings back after some persuasion, revealing a set of pencils. The pencils are slightly worn, that's clear, but well loved. Despite being faded, I can still see the colours. Bright blue, a deep forest green. Even purples, and dandelion yellows. Every colour of the rainbow and more. This makes the coloured crayons and chalks from First School look gaudy and childish.

"Wow, where did you get this from?" I query.

"Miss, you can find everything in District 12. This was passed down from my father to me. Been in the family for generations," He taps the tin softly. "This, my girl, is from before the Dark Days." My eyes widen.

"Really?"

"Yup, so I'd keep it quiet if I were you. You know how those bloody Peacekeepers are."

"Are you sure you want me to have this?" I ask, dumbfounded. Such treasures like this are not only unusual, but also valuable. Anyone in possession of something like this would probably have sold it for extra cash. I know I would've. This would've earned me a good amount. And amount that would've have been welcome in the months when we end up almost starving, the grasping hands of death curdling around our feet like sour milk.

"For a price, of course," I nod quickly. "But I haven't got a steady hand. I can't draw. Haven't got anyone to pass it on to."

"Can I trade?" I ask.

"Sure you can."

"I've got groosling and squirrel. How about a groosling and two squirrels?" I offer.

"Oh, I know who you are."

"You do?"

"You're Lowell's eldest aren't you?"

"Yes." I say quietly. Still, after all these years, hearing my father's name feels like a knife to the heart. If we talk about him, we refer to him as 'him' or 'he. Prim stopped saying Daddy soon after his death. But I never stopped thinking of him as my father, the man who shadowed me on my trips to the forest, the man who isn't buried hundreds of feet below the surface in the dark.

"Your Papa was a good man, Miss Everdeen. I worked with him for many, many years." The man says, his eyes fogging up.

"Until the mine collapsed?" I ask, trying to hold back the bitter edge to my voice.

"Until the mine collapsed," The man confirmed. We fall into silence for a few long seconds. I close the tin carefully. "You keep the groosling. You're Papa would've wanted that." The man says.

"No, you can have a squirrel and the groosling." I say, pulling the animals from my bag.

"Please, I insist." The man says, shaking his head.

"It's what he would have wanted." I say softly. The man pauses, considers me for a minute, before taking the game I'm pushing toward him.

"It was nice doin' business with you." He concludes, ever professional. I turn and walk away, the weight of the tin heavy in my palm.

A_A_A_A

Come four o'clock, I begin to panic. This isn't like me. I'm, usually so calm about everything, my face a mask, my fear never displayed. But I guess this is a completely different situation.

"Katniss, calm down. You've got an hour till Peeta picks you up. Go have a bath and then I'll braid your hair all nice and you can wear Madge's beautiful dress." Mom says, patting me on the shoulder.

"But people are gonna see. They'll notice the bump. They'll see me with Peeta and start to assume things."

"Katniss…"

"And the dinner is just going to be awkward. His brothers are probably going to be all sarcastic and his mother is going to be… well… herself."

"Katniss. It's going to be fine. Stop worrying." My mother says, pushing me towards the bedroom. There's already a tub of hot water waiting for me.

Mom pulls a curtain over the doorway and I sigh, scrubbing my face with my hands. She's right. I do need to stop worrying. I do need to get control of my feelings. But tonight I'm feeling nervous.

I remove my clothes, run my fingers through my hair to free it from its braid, and sink into the water, submerging myself full and trying to calm my senses. Underwater, everything's muffled. Everything's quieter, and calmer, and helps me to think. Pushing myself up to the surface of the after with my foot against the side of the tub, I begin to wash my hair with a bar of soap.

District 12 is divided. Divided between those who have money, and those who have barely anything. How will I look in the Mellark household, with my borrowed clothes and dark skin and hair and grouchy personality? I'm going to be sitting at a table of blonde-haired, blue-eyed people, feeling like the odd one out. Mrs Mellark is undoubtedly going to pick out every single flaw I have, every single thing I say or do and everything single part of me until she's pecked me down to the bone, like a vulture. I can only hope that nobody expects a calm evening where I'll hold my tongue and not yell at that damned women.

I scrub my body with a course sponge that makes my skin turn slightly pink, before climbing out of the tub and drying myself, and wrapping the tattered towel around myself. My hair, dripping slightly, is cool against my back. I pull on a loose t-shirt and a pair of pants, and walk back out into the kitchen, using another, smaller towel to help my hair dry.

"You want me to braid you hair?" Mom asks. I nod, and sit opposite Prim at the table.

"Keep your hair down, Katniss. It looks really pretty." Prim tells me, looking up from her embroidery circle.

"I'll braid the front and pin it back if you want, so it doesn't get in your eyes." Mom offers, combing through my hair with her fingers.

Twenty minutes later, Mom has finished braiding my hair away from my face, but leaves it loose and wavy about my face. With my hair still slightly damp, I move into the bedroom to change. I pull the dress on, and turn around in the mirror, inspecting my profile from all angles. What if someone sees my tummy?

Despite the dress, you can still see the curve of my stomach. I'm halfway through my fourth month, and should really be bigger, but I'm kind of grateful of my small-ish size. It gives me a little while longer to sort out my head. To figure out what I'm going to do next. A flash of gold catches my eye. The Mockingjay pin that Madge gave me. I pick it up and pin it to my dress.

"You should wear those little brown shoes with it." Mom says from the doorway. I look up and see her standing there, watching me.

"I can't do this. What if someone sees? And Mrs Mellark is going to be angry and I don't think I'll be able to keep my tongue around her." I fret, smoothing down the dress. I have twenty minutes until Peeta is going to collect me. Mom bends down, her knees cracking when she kneels down to search under her bed for the small pair of light-brown shoes with only a tiny heel. Any bigger and I'm sure I'd fall over.

"Katniss, you look wonderful, and I'm sure that everything will be okay," Mom says, handing me the shoes and smirking slightly. "And if you do end up yelling at his mother, make sure you give that woman a mouthful from me too." I grin and push my feet into the shoes.

"I'll make sure I do." I say, standing and taking a deep breath.

"Seventeen," Mom muses, shaking her head. "When did you all get so old? I can remember, on your first day of school, you hid behind my skirts and pointed to all the Merchant boys playing ball. And you pointed right at Peeta Mellark because he was staring at you." Mom smiles at the memory.

"I did?" I ask, surprised.

"Yep."

"And what did you say?" I persist.

"I told you that the boy was Peeta Mellark, and that he would never hurt you." Mom says softly. I smile and look down at my stomach.

Yet again, Mom is right. Peeta Mellark would never hurt me. And now he's seventeen, and we'll be able to get married in May. Sure, the wedding will be after the baby is born, but at least people wont be able to make up more rumours about how I'm just a desperate Seam slut. Doing that to Peeta would ruin him.

"At the Hob, I got him a present." I say, turning and reaching under my pillow for the small tin of pencils.

"You did?" Mom asks.

"Yeah, traded a groosling and two squirrels for it." I tell my mother, showing her the tin.

"It's lovely Katniss, I didn't know he could draw." Mom says, running her fingers over the cool metal, rolling the pencils.

"Not only draw, but paint as well. Madge showed me at her house. He's really good." I gush, thinking of the portraits and landscapes that littered the Undersee mansion.

"I've got some brown paper and string, do you want to wrap it up?" Prim pokes her head through the door.

"Have you been eavesdropping?" I ask. Prim opens her mouth, taken aback.

"I would never!" She gasps. I roll my eyes.

"Prim…" Mom sighs, pushing a greying strand of hair behind her ear.

"Do you want to wrap it or not?" Prim giggles.

"Quickly, Mr Mellark will be here any second." Mom hurries Prim along and guides me into the kitchen. Prim leaps into action, her nimble fingers cutting a square of shiny brown paper and a length of string, wrapping the tin swiftly but carefully, asking me to hold my finger on the knot of the string so she can secure it with a bow.

"Thanks, Prim." I say. Prim smiles up at me, her eyes shining.

"You're welcome. Always got to make a good impression on your first date." She winks.

"Peeta and I have done everything backward. Growing up, I was taught that dating came before marriage and a child." I say, sarcasm evident.

"There's a first time for everything." Mom says from behind me, smoothing down a piece of hair that's come astray from the braid encircling half of my head, just as there's a light knock on the door. Prim squeals, Mom smiles and I worry at the skin of my thumb. Batting my thumb from my teeth, Mom squeezes my hand. Prim grins. I think she's more excited than I am.

"I feel sick." I say.

"Katniss, you'll be okay." My mother promises.

"I can't do this." I mumble.

"Go!" Prim hisses.

"Don't keep him waiting, he's already walked all this way in the cold." Mom says, pushing me towards the door.

After shooing Mom and Prim into the sitting room, I open the door.

"Hey." Peeta says, smiling at me from the bottom of the porch steps, his shoulders hunched as he hides from the icy wind. Snowflakes waft down. It's gotten warmer, meaning that the snow isn't quite settling yet, but it wont be long.

"Happy Birthday!" I offer cheerfully, shutting the front door behind me and walking down the steps, Peeta's gift held behind my back.

"Thank you." Peeta chuckles.

"How does it feel to be seventeen?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm not seventeen just yet. I was born at quarter to nine. A few hours to go yet," Peeta reveals. I smile and we begin to walk. "You look lovely, Katniss." My fiancé says, smiling at me in the silver moonlight. Fiancé is a word I'm trying to use more often, in order for myself to become more comfortable with the fact that I'm engaged. Pretty soon I'll become Peeta Mellark's wife.

Katniss Mellark.

It sounds foreign on my lips.

"Thank you, this is Madge's dress." I say, biting my lip.

"You're wearing that pin again." Peeta observes.

"It goes with the ring. Gold and brown." I say lifting my left hand. Peeta grins. I smiles back at him and wrap my arms around myself. I should've worn a jacket. It's December, and I'm just wearing a dress. Well done me.

"You're cold." Peeta says.

"No, it's fine." I shake my head, trying to ignore the feeling of goose bumps crawling up my arms.

"Take my coat." Peeta offers.

"But then you'll be cold." I say.

"Katniss," Peeta says, unzipping his coat and handing it to me. "I've got my hoodie, and you're in a dress. I don't want you getting hypothermia." I sigh and take his coat, slipping it on and feeling the warmth from Peeta's body flooding through me.

"Thanks." I say, bumping shoulders with the baker's son as he walks beside me. He puts his arm around my shoulders, a gesture I'd probably shy away from in any other situation. But now I find myself leaning into him, huddled against his side as we walk down the dark path.

"That coat is massive on you." Peeta laughs. I hold my arms out, my hands hidden by the long sleeves.

"It's only because you're tall." I retort.

"I think you're just short." Peeta snorts. I slap his arm.

"Whatever, baker boy." I say flippantly.

"Baker boy?" Peeta asks.

"You got a problem with that?"

"No, but I think I should be able to call you hunter girl or arrows."

"Hunter girl? Arrows?" I ask. "Come on, you can do better." Peeta is silent, deep in thought.

"Alright. Kitty suits you." He snickers.

"I'd rather shoot myself with an arrow." I grumble.

"How about Kat?" Peeta suggests.

"I can live with that." I conclude.

Looming up ahead, the bakery is like a glowing beacon on the horizon. Although it's closed, the front of the shop is still lit up. Twisting in my gut, anxiety floods over me like a tsunami.

"Can I just apologise in advance-" Peeta starts.

"I'm sorry if I-" I begin. "After you." I offer.

"My mother. She isn't exactly happy about this. So if she gets too much, just say something and I'll take you back home." Peeta grips my arm tightly, his eyes wide with worry.

"Peeta, I was about to say the same thing about myself. I'm sorry if I shout at your Mom." I say. Peeta shakes his head.

"Honestly, Katniss. You'd have a field day arguing with her. But I'm telling the truth. Ever since she found out, she's been sour. I'll give her credit- at least she hasn't thrown me out, but she's angry."

"I'm not surprised." I mutter. We reach the front door.

"You ready?" Peeta asks. I let out a deep breath.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I say with raised eyebrows.

A_A_A_A

A rush of warmth hits me when I step into the bakery. My cheeks tingle as I wipe my feet on the doormat. I can hear voices, it sounds like Rye and Mr Mellark. I've made my way into the bakery. So good so far.

"I'll take your coat. Well, my coat." Peeta says. I slip the garment off and Peeta hangs it on a row of hooks by the door.

"Am I over dressed?" I ask, turning to face Peeta.

"No, you look beautiful. Don't worry abou-" Peeta says. But now that we're in the yellow lights of the bakery, I can see the mess Gale has left behind on Peeta's face.

"Your face!" I whisper, stepping forward. Peeta opens his mouth to say something, but give up. I trace my fingers over his skin. Among an array of tiny white scars, a large purple bruise surrounds Peeta's eye, almost forcing it shut. His lip is bust and swollen. He has a few scrapes on his jaw, but they're beginning to fade into red marks.

"It's fine, Katniss. Really."

"It isn't!" I gape. "I couldn't see in them in the dark."

"I deserve them." Peeta shrugs, moving away. I pull him back, tugging on his dark blue, freshly pressed shirt. He's even polished his clunky baker's boots for the occasion.

"No, you don't. Gale had no right to attack you like that. I shouldn't have worn the ring in the woods- it was a stupid mistake. You're the one who didn't deserve this." I say.

"He hurt you too." Peeta points out, thinking about when I fell back from the force of Gale's arm drawing back.

"Yeah, but that isn't the point." I mutter.

"That is the point, Katniss. If you had lost the baby because of anything he did, whether it was intentional or not, I don't know what I would've done," I pause, listening intently to Peeta's words. "It would've made me so sad, knowing that he had done that to you."

Silence stretches between us before I finally speak. "You really care about this baby, don't you?" I ask.

"I do." Peeta says simply.

"I do too." I smile. Peeta pulls me to him, crushing me against his broad chest. I wrap my arms around his torso.

"Woops, did I interrupt something?" A voice asks. "Peet making a move?"

"Shut up, Fen." Peeta snaps. I pull away and face my soon to be brother-in-law.

"How you doing, Katniss?" The eldest Mellark asks, ignoring Peeta completely.

"I'm good, thanks. How are you?" I return politely.

"Desperate to eat, so stop doing whatever I interrupted and get in here." Fen says, winking at his brother and ducking out of the room.

"Sorry about that." Peeta apologises.

"That? You don't call your brother him?" I ask.

"Oh, he doesn't deserve to be classed as a human. It would be an insult to mankind," Peeta rolls his eyes. "Lets go meet the parents." He says, making his way into the house.

A glorious smell invades my senses the second I enter the bakery kitchen. I'm used to smelling bread baking in here, but now it's alive with activity, and the smell of something delicious is filling the air, overriding the scent of bread.

"Miss Everdeen!" Peeta's father greets me. "You're looking lovely this evening." He pulls me into a bear hug.

"Hey, thanks for having me." I say softly. He chuckles in response. Peeta shifts uncomfortably. I shoot him a reassuring look. _Stop fretting. It's alright. _

"Of course, it wouldn't be right not to invite you."

"I hope you like lamb stew." Rye calls out from the oven. 'Probably' is the response I have in mind, but instead, my brain-to-mouth filter stops working.

"You cook?" I ask doubtfully. Rye turns, narrowing his eyes.

"Why so surprised, Everdeen?" He challenges.

"You just didn't seem like the kind." I smirk.

"Oh really."

"And that pink apron really suits you." I add, looking down at the apron tied around Rye's waist.

"Thanks." Rye says, turning back to the oven.

"Already putting him in his place, I see." Fen calls out. Peeta steps closer to me.

"You want to sit down?" He asks.

"Doesn't anyone want any help?" I ask.

"Nah, we can handle it." Mr Mellark says warmly, slicing bread on the countertop.

I sit beside Peeta at the kitchen table as Rye and Mr Mellark continue to cook, and try to get the hang of a card game Fen is attempting to teach me.

"No, you match that what with this one." He says impatiently. Peeta chuckles from beside me. Fen scowls, matching my expression.

"So it's like snap?" I ask.

"Yeah," Fen nods, looking up at me. "You've played match before?" He asks.

"I'm not totally antisocial." I say.

"Alright, but I'm the reigning champion at this shit." Fen tells me.

"Family game nights." Peeta informs me. Complete disasters. Rye cheats, Dad gets confused, and Fen tries to distract people so he can look at their cards."

"Yeah, and you sulk in the corner when you loose." Fen says to his brother.

"I do not."

"Don't listen to him." Fen advises me.

"Whatever, but I'm the best at this." I say.

"You wanna bet on that? I win, and you do the dishes and mop the floors." Fen says.

"And when _you _loose, I can walk away with my head held high, and you mopping and scrubbing." I smile sweetly.

Peeta rests his hand on the back of my chair, his fingertips dancing over the bare skin of my back that the dress doesn't cover. I find this small gesture comforting. Fenton and I play snap until Mr Mellark asks us to clear the table, and I win every single game- my hunter's reflexes putting me on the higher ground.

"Alright, you win that round. But I'm not convinced." The blonde-haired man says, narrowing his eyes.

"I told you I'd win." I shrug.

"I bet Peeta's helping you cheat."

"I'm crap at match." Peeta says.

"Face it, I'm just better than you." I say. Fen rolls his eyes. Mr Mellark places a large pot with a chipped lid on the middle of the table and hits his first born over the head with his apron, repeating his request that he clears the cards away.

"Just because you won a few games, it doesn't make you superior." Fen mutters.

"Yeah, you keep tellin' yourself that." I say, my voice sounding distinctively Seam as I speak.

"Telling is pronounced with a 'g'." A sharp voice interjects. I look up, my smile disappearing when I see that Mrs Mellark has entered the room, his hair pulled up in a tight bun, her cold eyes fixed on me, judging my every move.

"Good evening, Mrs Mellark." I greet courteously.

"Is that stew?" Peeta's mother asks, disregarding my words. I lock my jaw, looking over at Peeta. _Sorry. _He mouths, his eyes sad, eyebrows pulled together. I force a smile onto my lips.

"Yes, Aymee. Lamb stew." Mr Mellark confirms, sitting down beside me at one end of the table. Mrs Mellark nods and sits beside Peeta, opposite her husband. Rye sits opposite me, and Fen is opposite Peeta.

"Have you ever had lamb before?" Peeta asks. I nearly jump at the sound of his voice; he's been silent ever since his mother appeared.

"Of course she hasn't," Mrs Mellark snaps. "You know that lamb isn't for the poor. She's probably never eaten anything like this."

"Actually, I have had lamb." I say. Mrs Mellark purses her lips. Rye raises his eyebrows.

"Really?" Mr Mellark asks. "When was that?" He looks at me with genuine interest and begins to serve up stew, passing he plates around the table.

"Uh, when I was six," I say, looking down at the meal in front of me. The lamb is but in equally sized chunks, drenched in a thick gravy with some sort of fruit added to the mix. All this is sat upon _white _rice. I've only ever eaten brown rice. The white rice looks blindingly pure on the plate. "My father helped rebuild part of the butcher's roof when it blew down in a storm. He was given a lamb and a pork joint as payment."

"So you like it?"

"Definitely." I nod.

"Dig in then." Peeta's father says. The sound of cutlery scraping against plates soon fills the room.

"Rye puts plums in it." Peeta says suddenly. Rye sighs loudly and dramatically.

"Oh, well done. Just give away the family secret." He says. Peeta shoots him a look. I grin at my plate. This is okay. Maybe this wont be painfully awkward, or filled with harsh words from Mrs Mellark of myself.

"Don't worry. I wont steal it. I'm not a very good cook anyway." I shrug.

"I'm sure you're just fine. Besides, Peeta's a dab hand in the kitchen anyway, so you can catch the food, and he could cook it." Mr Mellark says, dipping a slice of bread into the stew.

"I could never go hunting." Peeta confesses.

"Sure you could." I say.

"I sound like an elephant just walking up the stairs. And my blonde hair wouldn't exactly help in the forest, would it?" I grin and take another bite of my meal.

It's really good. Although you wouldn't think it, the plum complements the stew perfectly. The rice, soft and light, unlike the burnt congealed brown mess I find in the pan when I cook.

"This is great, Rye. I salute you." I say, nodding approvingly to the middle Mellark. He nods back to me. Fen snorts.

"Don't tell him it's good. He'll just use that against you at a later date."

This sets Rye off on a tangent, talking enthusiastically about his cooking skills compared to Fen, who's better at counting money and inventory than baking or cooking.

"I made ice cream once!" Fenton says adamantly.

"It was from a tub. Sent from the Capitol. And all you did was put it into pastries for customers."

"Ice cream?" I ask, confused.

"It's really nice. I've only ever had it once. It's milk and sugar a load of other stuff mixed together, but really cold." Rye says, before continuing to argue with Fen. I frown. That doesn't _sound_ nice.

"Are they always like this?" I ask Peeta. He grimaces and nods, placing his knife and fork neatly on his now empty plate.

"Yup, but I normally join in." He says cheekily, an endearing dimple appearing as he lifts one side of his mouth in a smile.

"That's why you want to have girl. Mellark boys are nightmares," Peeta's father contributes.

I look down at my stomach. Is it possible that I'll have a miniature version of Peeta? I can imagine it clearly; a little boy with bright eyes and a stunning smile and the ability to charm everyone with his words. It would be like Peeta was when he was younger, before he hit twelve and began to loose the roundness in his face in turn of a chiselled jaw line, he grew taller and his shoulders broadened, his voice turned from a child's squeal to a man's deep, rumbling tone and his curls faded from almost white to the golden hues I know today.

As the meal goes on, and everyone finishes eating, I find myself observing the Mellark family. Aymee Mellark sits at the end of the table, her back rigid against the chair, her eyes accusing slits. Mr Mellark- her polar opposite- sits with his fingers clasped together, resting his chin on his hands as he watches his sons speak with warm eyes.

Fen, Rye and Peeta all seem at ease, leaning back in their seats and talking freely, though there are small things that are different, and not just their appearances. Rye is arrogantly relaxed, slouching back and spinning a pencil between his fingers. Fen is more reserved, sitting upright by a small amount. He uses his hands a lot as he speaks, gesturing wildly.

And then there's Peeta. I can almost feel the worry radiating off him. He's trying to laugh along and relax, but I can see his hand in a tight fist, resting on his leg as he laughs.

Sliding my hand over, but never looking his way, I place my hand over his and gently but firmly uncurl his fingers, entwining them with mine and giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezes back, letting me know that it's okay. Neither of us let go.

"Let's go get dessert, shall we?" Mr Mellark prompts, standing from his seat. I stand and help him carry the dirty plates over to the large kitchen sink. "You didn't have to do that, you're the guest." He says.

"Don't worry. I don't mind helping out." I reply.

"Okay, but sit back down. Peeta's watching you. He's concerned." I peek over my shoulder and Peeta smiles at me. I blush and turn away.

"He shouldn't be. Everything's going just fine so far." I say.

"I know. But he wants to make a good impression."

"Don't worry. I don't think anything could change my impression of him. He's more like his father than..." I pause, unsure if I've gone too far or not.

"Than his mother?"

"Yeah."

"Then aren't you lucky?" Mr Mellark says with a wink, his eyes twinkling. I smile softly and return to my seat. Peeta leans in close to me to whisper into my ear, causing me to shiver at the feeling of his hot breath against my skin.

"What were you talking about with my Dad?" He asks.

"Oh, nothing. Just about dessert." I shrug his question off.

"Something must be really wrong then, you looked pretty serious."

"Dessert is a serious thing." I smirk. Peeta rolls his eyes.

For afters, we have a rich, gooey, chocolate cake that Fen calls a gateau. I take one bite and fall in love, the smooth chocolate melting on my tongue. It's almost as good as cheese buns. And it's in a moment of silence between conversation when Mrs Mellark clears her throat, stopping the sound of people eating when she finally speaks. This is what everyone's been waiting for.

"You cannot cook?" She asks scornfully.

"Not very well. I'm getting better though." I reply, keeping my tone light and chatty.

"How are you going to provide from my son when you marry him and have your own household to keep up?"

I blink. A _house_? For Peeta and I? Will I be able to fully mesh my life with his, and live with him as my husband and father of my child? I'm definitely going to try, that's for sure.

"Well, for a start I don't think that the woman should be one who abide to their husband's every need," Mrs Mellark opens her mouth to say something but I cut over her. "Yes, I think a couple should provide for each other, so I think that Peeta and I will be just fine."

"Are you saying that you expect Peeta to cook? He is the man in the marriage, not you, though sometimes I find that hard to believe." Peeta stiffens beside me.

"Peeta is the man in this marriage, and him cooking doesn't make him any less than that." I say. For a few, long seconds, the witch is silent, mulling my words over.

"So what job prospects do you have?" She continues.

"Job prospects?" I ask.

"Yes, I can't imagine you would end up in anywhere else but the mines."

"I don't know. Peeta and I haven't discussed it yet." I say, bewildered.

"So how are you going to pay for that thing when it's born, or raise it? Peeta's pay working here won't pay for it." Her eyes are cold and mean, staring me down.

"That _thing_ is a human being. And I think we'll be alright, Mom. You don't need to grill Katniss." Peeta speaks up softly.

"I'm not talking to you, so keep your mouth shut!" Peeta's mother snaps.

"Aymee, please." Mr Mellark warns.

"Farrell!" His wife hisses. The table falls silent. "All I'm saying is that I don't think you know what you've done! Honestly, the fact that you were stupid enough to think that fucking him-" she points an accusing finger at Peeta. "-Would mean you would have a better life is difficult to believe in the first place!"

"I know what's happened! I know that this is going to difficult. I know that things would've been much easier if this hadn't happened, but it did. And if I were stupid, I could've ended up sleeping with some other guy, and not someone as kind-hearted as your son!" I snap, glaring at Mrs Mellark.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" She screeches.

"Mom, don't…" Peeta says, his voice pained.

"No, let her speak!" I say, aware of how tense the atmosphere has become. The voice inside my head is screaming at me, demanding that I hold my tongue and think before I speak. But this woman, who's done nothing but hurt her husband and sons, has yelled at the wrong person. She shouldn't have yelled at her youngest son's hormonal fiancé, and not have expected to be challenged.

"You're nothing but a Seam slut, you hear me?" Mrs Mellark says, standing up from her seat and leaning forward, over the empty plates so she can loom over me, a vein sticking out on her forehead. "A nasty inbred! You should've gotten rid of that damned thing before he knew!" I bite my lip, tasting blood I'm pressing down with my teeth so hard. Peeta's hand snakes over to mine, like I did before, and he looks pointedly at me. I take a deep breath.

No.

I will not let this woman scare me off, or call me names, or make my life hell.

"How can you prove that it's Peeta's, huh? He's not man enough to get anyone pregnant, so it must be someone else's child," She puts her hands on her hips. "Hawthorne's, is it? You don't go into the woods just to hunt, do you? You nasty creature, passing it off as my grandchild!"

"Mom!" Peeta cries, exasperated.

"I don't Seam blood in my family, scum like you are disgusting. Look what your 'friend' did to my son's face! Are you sleeping with both of them? I assume Peeta is the one paying you, I can't imagine you Seam lot can afford anything!"

"Aymee!"

"And you have the audacity to come into my home and act like everything is okay? Well, it's not! You are filthy! Now get out of our lives, and take that bastard with you!"

"Gale is just my friend!" I say, my resolve, no matter how thin, finally snapping. I've let her yell and accuse and taunt, and now it's my turn. Poor Peeta, this isn't turning out to be a very nice birthday at all. "And just my friend! This child is Peeta's, and I hope he or she has blonde hair and blue eyes like him, so that everyone knows that it's his!" I grip Peeta's hand tightly, his touch stopping me from getting up and ripping the ghastly woman's head off. "I'm not exactly thrilled to have you in my life, either, but your husband and children are nothing like you, so I'm happy to be around them!"

"Get out! Before I throw you out!"

"Besides, you beat your children anyway. It's not like they know any different." I conclude, putting as much venom into my words as I can. I know I'm not exactly making a good impression, but she's made me so mad.

"You monster. How dare you say that to someone like me!" Mrs Mellark says. She steps around the table and storms out of the room, slamming the door so hard that the crockery rattles.

Agonising silence fills the room, and then I burst into tears.

"I'm sorry." I choke out, burying my face in my hands.

"Kat, it's alright." Peeta whispers, pulling me towards him and wrapping me in his arms around me, rocking me to side to side like my father used to do when I had a nightmare.

"I've ruined this lovely dinner, and your birthday," I sob. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Mr Mellark says softly, his eyes sad but also stunned. "For actually speaking up."

"I should leave." I say, mortified and shaking my head as I get up to run home and never face Peeta or his family again. Peeta catches my arm and pulls me gently back, pushing a strand of hair from my face and smiling.

"It's my birthday dinner. You can stay." He says calmly.

"But I yelled at her." I say.

"Katniss, I'm proud of you. I'm not angry or embarrassed. Mom yelled first. And you were an equal match- she made Fen's girlfriend cry when she visited."

"It's true." Fen adds grumpily.

"Are you sure I can stay?" I ask, trying to calm my breathing.

"Yeah, of course you can. Fen still needs his ass kicked at Snap, doesn't he?" I laugh despite myself, wiping my eyes.

"You have the mouth of a sailor. Bravo." Rye chuckles, holding his hand out for me to high-five.

"Charming, Rye." Mr Mellark says.

"That's my middle name." Rye says.

"No it isn't. It's Amber." Fen says. Rye pushes him off his chair and they tussle on the floor.

"Amber?" I giggle, humiliation still filling me as I rest my head against Peeta's chest.

"Fen's is Willow." Peeta's father says, carrying the plates to the sink.

"Gee, thanks Dad!" Fen calls out from the floor.

"Aren't those girl's names?" I ask.

"Yeah." Peeta chuckles.

"What's your middle name?" I ask.

"I wasn't given one." Peeta tells me.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, but I'm kind of glad." Peeta says.

"You are?"

"Yeah. I mean, come on. Peeta is bad enough. Imagine what a middle name would've been like!" He laughs.

"I wanted to call you Flour." Mr Mellark says.

"See. Us Mellarks have the naming capabilities of a brick wall," Peeta says. I smile and hiccough, the remnants of my sudden crying petering off. "Come on, Kat." Peeta says.

"Where are we going?" I ask, following Peeta into the hallway.

"Into the living room. I assume you got me a present." He winks.

Alright, so maybe everything will be okay again. Granted, Mrs Mellark did start the argument, but I had no right to yell back at her. Mr Mellark actually thanked me, and didn't seem too surprised. Fen and Rye congratulated me. And Peeta said that he wasn't angry or embarrassed. That he's proud of me.


	25. Chapter 25: Fen and Rye at their finest

**Thanks a million for all the reviews, follows and favourites on my story! You're all amazing :D Sorry about the almighty disaster with trying to upload the last chapter, which ended up being two! I hope everyone who wanted to read it was able to :) I've just posted the start of a new story called _One Wish_. Read it if you want and tell me what you think ;) Warning, it's going to be quite depressing…Anyway, enough of me. Onwards with Peeta's POV...**

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Katniss. Brilliant, beautiful Katniss. I knew that Mom was gonna blow up, as much as I prayed that she would stay polite for just one evening. Although I knew that Katniss would never let someone put her down, I hadn't expected her reaction.

She full-blown _yelled_ at Mom. And Mom (after getting over the initial shock of someone yelling back) shouted back at her.

That was the Katniss I knew. That was the Katniss I had fallen in love with. Independent and strong-minded. But what surprised me was how she reacted after Mom stormed out of the room and upstairs. She burst into tears, and the first thing she did was fall into my arms. She _wanted_ my affection.

All this time I've been anxious about how our relationship was progressing. The little voice inside my head has been nagging at me for months. Telling me not to ever get my hopes up.

_Katniss is only marrying you for the idea of having a house and income. _

_Katniss doesn't love you! She just wants a way out!_

I have to ignore the voice. It sounds a lot like Mom.

We migrate into the living room, and I sit down on the two-seater couch. Katniss sits beside me, leaning against me, her hand on her steadily growing stomach.

"Rye!" Dad calls from the kitchen. "Come back in here and help Fen and I tidy up!" Rye groans dramatically from the hallway and stomps back into the kitchen, leaving Katniss and I alone in front of the crackling fire. I wiggle my toes, feeling the heat radiate towards me.

"Peeta?" Katniss asks timidly, breaking the comfortable silence we've fallen into.

"Yeah?" I say, looking down at my fiancé.

"I'm sorry for yelling. This is your birthday, and I'm the guest. I shouldn't have argued with your Mom. All I've done is embarrass myself." Her grey eyes are swimming, as if she's about to cry again. My heart breaks.

"Hey, don't be upset. I'm kind of glad you yelled. Mom normally just rants and no-one says anything."

"But it was a stupid thing to do."

"Maybe, but everyone does stupid things sometimes." I shrug.

"Your Dad isn't mad, is he?" Katniss asks.

"He was trying not to grin. He isn't mad." I chuckle. Katniss let's out a short laugh, but it fades quickly.

Caught in my throat, the words I want to say come out as a heavy sigh. "What is it?" Katniss asks me, looking up at my face.

"Nothing."

"It's something," Katniss whispers. I stay silent. "Come on, Peeta," she encourages, squeezing my bicep lightly with her hand. I can't ignore the electricity that shoots up my arm from where her skin is touching mine. It sends a shiver through me. "You can tell me."

I stare at the wall opposite, the pale paint melting in and out of focus the longer I stare at it. Katniss is right. I can tell her. I should tell her. So why do I feel so anxious? Surely I should feel free to express my feelings with her, let her into my head, let her know my worries and thoughts and plans for the future.

"How's the baby?" I start. Katniss snorts. "What?" I ask, confounded.

"That's what you wanted to ask me? Peeta, I don't mind you asking. It's not a taboo subject or anything."

"Well?" I prompt. Katniss' features soften and she looks down at her stomach.

"It's fine. A pain in the ass, but all is well." She says quietly.

"Pain in the ass?" I ask. Katniss rolls her eyes.

"I can't lie on my stomach anymore. Or curl up real small," She sighs. I grin. Although she's tried to keep her distinctive Seam accent out of her voice, she's now falling into the habit of sometimes dropping 'g's and 't's. I think it's cute. "And Mom has to keep letting out loads of my clothes. I'm getting too fat to wear all my old stuff, and pretty soon... Possibly tomorrow and onwards, people are gonna be seeing my belly and I won't be ale to do anything about their reactions."

"And I'm sure you'll just flip them off or something." I tease.

"I know... But I don't know how _I'm_ going to react. People are going to be so horrible."

"I'll protect you." I offer. Katniss' shoulder droop.

"And you'll just get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt Peeta. Gale is pissed as hell."

"You've spoken to him?"

"Not yet."

"Don't let him yell. Please." I say, my tone quiet but intense.

For a minute, I fear that I've freaked her out, but then she shifts in position and sits on her heels, knees bent so she's facing me. Carefully, she moves her hand and cups my face, her touch gentle. I watch her, and she traces my swollen lip, the cuts under my left eye and over my jaw that are beginning to scab over, and lastly, she smoothes her thumb over my black eye. It's an intimate gesture, something I would never picture Katniss doing.

"Look what I've done to you." She murmurs. I close my eyes in frustration.

"You didn't do this." I tell her.

"Yeah I did."

"Katniss," I say, opening my eyes and taking her hands. "You haven't done anything. This is my own fault. I'm the one who can't handle alcohol." She blushes softly.

"I'm just as bad as you are," She grins. "We're gonna be great parents and fantastic role models." At this I chuckle and Katniss sits back down on the sofa, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Did you really mean what you said?" I ask her.

"You're gonna have to be a bit more specific." Katniss says.

"That you care about me. And the baby. That you aren't going to leave," Katniss stiffens, her grip on my hand tightening. "Or were you just saying that?"

"Peeta. I wasn't just sayin' that. I mean it. Leaving you is the last thing I'm gonna to do. And I do care about you and the baby." She looks up at me, her smile shy.

"Okay. I care too." I say.

"Do you think we'll ever be more?" Katniss blurts out. She claps her hand over her mouth the second she says it. My heart skips a beat.

This is what I wanted to ask her.

And she beat me to it.

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to think logically. She may not mean relationship wise.

"Relationship wise," Katniss continues. My pulse spikes. "Do you think we'll ever be more than what we are now? Do you ever think that we'll become...You know...more?"

"I'd like to know what we've got at the moment, first." I say.

"We're friends, that's for sure." Katniss states.

"I suppose that's a good starting point." Katniss grins.

"But close friends."

"I like that."

"But do you think we'll become more?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It would be nice to be more. I guess we should just take it slow, and see where things take us." I suggest, choosing my words carefully.

"Alright." Katniss says, seemingly content.

Dad, Fen and Rye enter the room a few minutes later. Dad catches my eye, smiling at Katniss, who's curled up beside me. Fen and Rye sit down on the floor, pulling out their individual gifts for me. Dad takes to his normal position in his over-stuffed brown leather armchair.

"Happy Birthday, Peet." Dad tells me, handing me a rectangular present wrapped in the same paper he uses to wrap up cheese buns. I take it and begin to unwrap it, revealing a brand new sketchbook.

"Thanks Dad." I say, flipping through, the crisp blank pages just waiting to be filled.

"I knew you needed a new one, so here you have it." Dad shrugs, clasping his hands over his stomach.

"I'm next!" Fen says, tossing me a badly wrapped gift. Inside is a blue apron.

"Thanks." I say, holding out.

"Oh my God." Rye cackles.

"What?" I say, turning the apron around. And then I see it. Katniss collapses into a fit of laughter. Printed right in the middle, in bold white letters, is nine words.

_Peeta Mellark: Making babies since the age of sixteen_

"Fen!" I say, looking at my brother in disbelief, a wide grin spreading over my face.

"You're welcome, little brother." Fen says, nodding regally.

"Jesus." Katniss gasps, wiping tears from her cheeks. I nudge her and she presses her lips together, trying not to laugh.

"If you loved that, you're going to love my present!" Rye exclaims, clutching at his stomach. Fen glances down his second brother.

"Are you alright?" He asks warily. Rye shakes his head, his eyes bright and mischievous.

"Here you go Peet. Enjoy." My brother says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small perfectly square box, wrapped in a piece of newspaper.

The whole room is tense as I find the edge of the paper to unwrap my gift. I've just seen the top of what's inside when I bring my hand up to cover my eyes.

"Seriously Rye?" I ask. Rye cries out, laughing like a hyena on the floor.

"What is it?" Fen asks. Katniss sits upright, craning her neck to see the package. My cheeks turn red-hot and I sigh heavily.

"It's a box of _condoms_." I say. Fen sits there, confused for about three seconds before high-fiving Rye and clapping his hands.

"Rye!" Dad groans. I look at Katniss, who is covering her mouth with of her hands, little bursts of air coming out of her nose as she desperately tries to curb her hysterical laughter. Thank God she's got a good sense of humour, or this would've been very awkward.

"Thought they'd be put to use. Shame I didn't think of giving them to you before hand." Rye shrugs, smirking cheerfully.

"Where do even get stuff like that?" Dad asks.

"Peacekeepers. Me and Darius are tight," Rye says, nodding his head in approval of himself. "Trust me. I have my contacts."

"Katniss, I'm sorry for my _eldest _sons behaviour." Dad says. Katniss shakes her head.

"No, don't worry. I think this is funny too!" Katniss laughs. Rye gives me a pointed look. I put the box of condoms beside my other presents.

"Thank you, Dad especially." I conclude.

"Wait, I have a present for you." Katniss says, rummaging in her pocket.

"Katniss, you didn't have to." I say, shaking my head.

"Yeah I did. Stop moaning," Katniss dismisses, handing me a small rectangle, wrapped in brown paper and string. I pull the string off and slide the paper away. A tin. "Open it then." Katniss prompts. I swing the lid open.

"Katniss…" I say, looking in awe at the rainbow of coloured pencils.

"I knew that you didn't have any pencils, and thought that you deserved a new set," Katniss smiles. "Besides. It goes perfectly with our Dad's gift."

"This is too much." I shake my head. This must have cost her a fortune. Even in a place like the Hob, this is a rare and beautiful item.

"No it isn't."

"It really is." Katniss raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, just accept it already." Fen says.

"Thank you." I breathe, closing the tin and wrapping my arms around Katniss.

"You're welcome." She mumbles into my shoulder, her arms winding around my waist. Rye, helpful as always, wolf-whistles. Katniss scowls at him.

As the evening progresses, and it grows even darker and colder outside, a comfortable atmosphere fills the room. Fen and Rye play cards with Dad and I. Katniss is quiet, watching the game.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"They aren't worth that much." Katniss replies.

"To me they're worth all the pennies in Panem." I say quietly, deliberately giving up my cards so that I no longer have to play.

"I'm just thinking about what your Mom said." Katniss admits, yawning halfway through her sentence.

"Don't listen to her Katniss. She doesn't know what you've been through."

"I'm not talking about those bits. I'm thinking about the bit about us two getting a house together."

"And what do you think?" I ask carefully.

"I don't know. Do you want to do it?"

"Yeah, I suppose. It would make it easier when the baby arrives, and people wouldn't be as cruel. They'd think that we got married, got a house and _then _had a baby." I say. Katniss sighs.

"No, what do _you _think?" She asks me sincerely.

I blink. Of course I want to live with Katniss. There's no doubt about that. But that would mean more responsibility. More pressure. We'd have to start providing for each other even more. With each marriage, the Justice Building assigns a new home for each couple. Seam stay in the Seam, and Merchants stay in the Merchant Quarters. But a marriage between both sides is rare, and I haven't ever seen it in my lifetime. How will they decide where to put us? I can only hope that we're located into the Merchant side of the district. Not only will it be more secure, but it'll also be warmer. Those Seam houses are no good for a baby. It's a miracle that any children in the Seam survive their first few years. But they're tough. They can do it.

"What do _I_ think?" I ask. Katniss nods, biting at her thumb. "I think that it's a good idea."

"Mom and Prim will be alone." Katniss says.

"No they wont. You can visit them. It's not like we'd be moving across Panem." I say gently.

"I'll feel bad- having a nice house when they have to live in the Seam," I pause, waiting for her to continue. "I need to fix the roof before it snows even more. And get them some more dry wood." I can sense Katniss getting more and more het up the more she over thinks things.

"Hey, we can give them coal. And food. Christmas can be at ours. Don't worry."

"Don't we need to be married to get a house?" Katniss says.

"I'm sure we can pull some strings." I say. Katniss nods, and I lay my arm over her shoulders. She lies down, resting her head on my chest and closing her eyes.

She falls asleep pretty quickly, and I watch her sleep with a smile on my face. In her sleep she looks so peaceful, her eyelashes fluttering, her scowl disappearing. I hook lock of hair behind her ear, the rest of her hair spilling out around her like a pool of ink.

For the next hour or so, Katniss stays lying on the couch, perfectly still, perfectly beautiful. Fen and Rye begin to argue about who won the game, and Dad nudges them with his foot, motioning them to be quiet. And then, just as Fen and Rye start to murmur insults at each other from each end of the coffee table, Katniss jolts awake, a surprised gasp escaping from her lips.

"Are you alright?" I ask her, my eyes wide. Fen and Rye turn their head, Dad looks up sleepily from the armchair.

"I felt something…" Katniss says, pushing herself upright and pressing her hands to her stomach.

"Like what?" I ask worriedly.

"Do you need your mother?" Dad asks.

"No, not that kind of feeling," Katniss shakes her head, looking down at her belly. "There!" She says in a hushed voice.

"Katniss?" I ask worriedly.

"Gimme your hand!" Katniss says. I exchange glances with my Dad and reach out my hand hesitantly. Katniss grabs it and places it on her stomach eagerly. "I was worried," She gushes, moving my hand around. "I didn't know why I hadn't felt anything. Mom said it would be like corn popping or butterflies, but it's really weird." She babbles, her cheeks flushed.

"Look, I have no idea what you're talking about, Katniss. Can you please-" My words trail off into stunned silence when something nudges gently at my palm. "What was that?" I ask.

"What do you think?" Katniss asks, slightly sarcastically.

"Is it?" I ask. Katniss nods. I bring my other hand over to her stomach and bite my lip, feeling the baby, _our baby, _move inside Katniss.

"Ugh. Too much lovey-dovey shit." Rye grunts, standing up and retreating upstairs. Fen follows.

"Congratulations, both of you," Dad smiles, standing up from his chair, stretching his legs and heading for the door. My family: always knowing when to leave. (Normally). "It was lovely seeing you Katniss." He says. Katniss smiles at me, barely acknowledging my father.

"It is." She says softly. I move around, kneeling on the hard living room floor and waiting to feel any more movement, disappointed when all is still again.

"Wow." I exhale.

"I know," Katniss grins. She looks up at the clock hung above the fireplace. "Hey, you're officially seventeen now." She reminds me.

"Oh yeah." I smile.

"What a good way to welcome your turning seventeen, huh?" She laughs. I nod.

"Definitely." I agree enthusiastically.

"It's late, Mom will get worried if I stay out too late." Katniss says reluctantly.

"You fell asleep, so I think getting you home is a good idea." I say, standing, brushing off my pants and taking Katniss' hand.

"I can't believe I yelled at your Mom and fell asleep." Katniss cringes, her grey eyes calm and wide.

"I can't believe Rye bought me _condoms_, for fuck sake." I say. Katniss blushes as we walk into the kitchen.

"You have to promise me that you'll wear that apron." She tells me.

"Of course I will," I pledge. "Let me get my coat and then we can get going."

I disappear into the bakery front and pull my coat from the hook. Katniss still looks thin. And it's going to be freezing in her house. Quietly as I can, I slide a few loaves of bread, three brownies and some cheese buns into a paper bag, folding over the top. Katniss is waiting for me in the kitchen and I lay my coat and the bag on the table, before pulling off my hoodie. My shirt decides to stick to my hoodie and I stand there, my arms in the air and Katniss laughs softly, before stepping forward to yank my shirt back down, her fingers brushing against my bare chest.

"Thanks." I grin.

"Why are you taking it off in the first place?" Katniss queries.

"I want you to have it. I've got another, and I think you need it more than I do."

"No, Peeta. I can't." Katniss says.

"Think of it as an early Christmas present." I say, handing her my hoodie. She pulls it over her head.

"This is way to big," She says, stretching out her arms. Just like when she wore my coat on the way here, her hands disappear into the sleeves, and the hem of the jacket reaches the middle of her thighs. "It's perfect." She grins.

"It says 'Mellark' on the back." I warn.

"That's okay." Katniss shrugs.

Outside, it's gotten impossibly colder. Although it is no longer snowing, the air is bitterly cold, biting at my skin. I shiver and pull my coat tighter about me, hooking my arm through Katniss' to keep her anchored to my side. We're quiet the entire walk, but when we reach her road, Katniss speaks up.

"What's in the bag?"

"Just some left over cake." I shrug.

"For Prim?" She asks.

"For all of you." I say.

"Peeta…"

"Dad insisted," I say. "Said you needed 'fattening up'."

"Sounds like he's gonna cook us on a spit." Katniss remarks, climbing up the porch steps of her home, her hands in the pocket of my hoodie, her nose and ears pink from the cold, her hair fluttering in the winter wind, her shoulders hunched up to her ears. She looks adorable, my hoodie swamping her slender frame.

"Don't worry, I'd stop him." I wink. Katniss smiles. I hand Katniss the bag, which she takes, gripping it tightly.

"Thank you for inviting me, Peeta." She says.

"Thank you for the present, and for putting up with my family." I return the gratitude.

"Happy Birthday too," She adds, thinking for a moment before climbing back down the porch steps and giving me a hug. I rest my head on her chin. I gulp. I would forever hate myself if I didn't at least try. I pull away, gazing at Katniss. "What?" She asks tacitly.

I lean down, cup her face in my hands and press my lips to hers.

For a second of two, Katniss doesn't react, and just stands there. But then –much to my relief- she kisses me back, her hands gripping my forearms as she stands on her tiptoes to reach me.

"Sorry." I say breathlessly after pulling away.

"No, it's alright." Katniss says, smiling brightly.

"Okay?"

"Okay." Katniss nods, retreating backwards, the bag tucked under her arm. My heart hammers in my chest, and I can't help the grin that stretches from ear to ear that appears on my face.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I call hopefully.

"Bye Peeta." Katniss grins, giving me a little wave as she shuts the door. I stand there, filled with joy, and fight the urge to pound the air with my fist.

Best.

Birthday.

_Ever_.


	26. Chapter 26: Happy Families

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favouriting my story! You guys are brilliant! Sorry about any typos- I wrote this with a headache that could easily be compared with death and wasn't exactly… _focused_ ;)**

***Note: Flashback in _italics_**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Despite how late it was when I got back home, Mom, Prim and I ate our brownies in front of the fire, with blankets wrapped around our shoulders. I felt bubbly and warm inside all night, and went to bed with a smile that stretched from one ear to the other. Mom and Prim don't ask about why I am so very happy, but simply shoot me strange looks when I actually offer to do the washing up before bed.

Overall, the entire evening was pretty good. Despite having a yelling match with Mrs Mellark, (which was most likely inevitable) I think that I was accepted not the family just a bit more. I was worried that visiting the home of the father of my child would be painfully awkward. I was concerned that Mr Mellark would drop his old opinion of me -whatever that happened to be- in favour of the same one of his wife. That I am nothing but a Seam rat, a slut. The lowest of low. I should've known that Farrell Mellark, with his kind and gentle demeanour and positive outlook on life, would never do that.

Fen and Rye surprised me too. And not just because of their... Inventive gifts. I had prepared myself for an evening of sarcastic comments and sly looks across the table. But they seemed all right with the entire situation, and carried on with their evening as if I was part of the family.

But Peeta was who surprised me the most. In a good way too. My initial fears vanished when I saw him waiting outside for me, his eyes impossibly blue, his hair gleaming like spun gold. Usually I'm not one for romance. Madge usually comes to school with a new romance novel every week, cooing incessantly as she turns the pages at lunch, and I find it incredible cheesy- the ways that the male character always risks his life for his girl, how they go to the ends of the earth to save each other, how their undying love is all they needed to survive.

All this time, and I thought it was silly. All this time, I thought that love was something fickle, a weakness of the human race. All this time, and I was almost completely unaware of feelings like this.

Feelings that I guess I could call love. Not yet lust, but a love that would make me happy to be with Peeta for the rest of my life.

It felt natural to curl up beside Peeta. I was comfortable in his arms. His eyes, pained as they watched me, made me feel a twisting sadness in every fibre of my being. I could sense that he was wary of boundaries, of what was going to far, and what could possibly drive me away. I caught myself by surprise when I knelt beside Peeta, took his face in my hands and traced the marks Gale had left behind. The atmosphere changed then, the gesture intimate- something a couple in love would do.

When his eyes closed, my thoughts raced ahead, coming up with the idea that he could be doing it simply as a sign of pleasure? Only for my conscious to dismiss it. But he couldn't see me then. He didn't see the soft smile that crept onto my lips.

Peeta's questions about whether I truly cared about him and the baby and that I wouldn't leave left me high and dry for a moment, and I had to think about whether I did or not. My answer was that I did, and Peeta relaxed at my words. Of course, me and my lack of connections between my brain and my mouth decided that that was the perfect moment to ask if we were ever to become more. Thankfully, Peeta said that he thought that we could.

I think that was then I began to feel slightly giddy.

Added to the laughter I shared for Peeta's brothers presents, the warmth of Peeta's hug, the idea of us living together and feeling our baby move for the first time after falling asleep on Peeta's chest, the entire evening provided enough time for the tension between us to build.

On the way home, I found myself thinking about Peeta in a different light. Mitch's words from the very start of the games, before any of this happened, spring to mind.

"I can almost feel the tension... Sexual or not, I'm still to decide."

I wonder if Peeta has told any of his friends yet.

I doubt it.

Sexual or not? Well, Peeta did look good in his outfit, and the blue shirt really brought out his blue eyes. Handing over his hoodie was a kind thing for him to do, and when he pulled it over his head, and his shirt became untucked from his pants and revealed his muscular chest to me, I couldn't help but stare for a few seconds, before stepping forward to pull his shirt back down. I was almost ashamed to admit that I trailed my fingers over his bare skin on purpose. I wanted to ignore the shiver that went through him at my touch.

As he told me what was inside the paper bag he was carrying, I watched his lips move, and wondered what it would be like to press my lips to his. That thought frightened me. What is happening to me? I remembered asking myself, because I didn't know when or why I had started to think like this. Were Madge's romance novels rubbing off on me, two years too late? Maybe it was pregnancy hormones? Or maybe (though I didn't want to think about it) Peeta was affecting me, as he is.

And then, when I thought that it was going to be nothing but a stupid thought rattling around in my skull, _Peeta_ kissed _me_.

Startled for a few seconds, I was left standing there, with Peeta's hands guiding my lips to his. I reacted eventually, and kissed him back, gripping onto his forearms so I could reach, feeling so very small compared to his hulking frame, but so very big, so on fire under his touch.

_What would happen if I kissed him?_

"Something must have happened...like something real good for you to be smiling for all this time." Prim comments at breakfast the next day.

We're digging in to the cheese buns Peeta snuck in to the bag, along with bread and the brownies. I've found a new meaning for living- cheese buns. I stand from the kitchen table and wrap one up to eat at lunch before slipping it into my bag.

"Nothing, I just had a good time."

"Yeah, I guessed that much." Prim says. I raise my eyebrows.

"I felt the baby."

"What?!" Prim exclaims.

"Katniss! Why didn't you tell us?" Mom asks from where she's been watching Prim grill me.

"I don't know. I just didn't." I shrug, immediately feeling guilty.

"What was it like?" My mother continues, grasping her cup of tea tightly in one hand, a cheese bun in the other.

"Weird. It was as if it was trying to get out or something... Freaky is the word that comes to mind." I say, tilting my head to one side thoughtfully.

"And where did you feel the kicking?"

"Uh, about here." I say, stuffing the rest of the cheese bun into my mouth so I can press my hands to my stomach, which is obvious now, even to the least observant person. Mom comes over, her brow creased, as she pokes around at my tummy.

"How long was it for?" Prim pipes up.

"Enough time for Peeta to feel it too," I say. "So approximately half a minute?" I estimate, thinking back to last night.

"Oh, Katniss! How romantic!" Prim gushes. I roll my eyes. Prim could be related to Madge, they both love romantic things.

"What did Peeta think? He must've been pretty thrilled. What a good birthday surprise." Mom smiles softly.

"He was worried at first. I kinda...babbled. He didn't know what I was talking about." I admit sheepishly.

"Well, I'm glad you finally felt some movement," Mom nods, smoothing down my braid. "Now, go on to school. You don't want to be late." I smile at my mother and follow Prim into our bedroom. Mom calls to us, telling us to wrap up warm. Prim ties pink ribbons onto the bottoms of her braids and pulls on her coat, hat, scarf and gloves. I'm usually stuck with a thin coat or my hunting jacket and a scarf, and have to put up with freezing hands. But today, I can wear Peeta's jacket. I pull it on under my coat.

"Is that Peeta's?" Prim asks me.

"No, I've always owned a hoodie with 'Mellark' written on the back." I say mockingly. Prim sticks her tongue out at me and walks into the kitchen. I yank on my boots and wrap my scarf around my head, slipping my hands into the pocket of Peeta's hoodie to keep my digits warm.

Outside, the air is bitterly cold, the sky pale grey. Beneath my feet, the grass has a layer of sparkling frost dusting it, and the mud that usually collects in sections all over the district has frozen solid.

"I bet it'll snow within the week." Prim predicts.

"You wanna bet on that?" I ask jokingly, elbowing my sister in the side, causing her to laugh along with me.

We walk to school in a comfortable silence, blowing our breath out in little puffs, watching it condense in the cold air and whirl in the light breeze. I'm at ease for most of the journey, but as the wrought school gates come into view, and the street begins to fill with students heading for First or Second School, I slow my pace significantly.

"You alright, Katniss?" Prim asks.

"People are gonna see," I say. "They'll see and assume things. Everybody will be horrible to me."

"Look, it's going to be tough, for Peeta too. But he'll help you through it. You've got a whole network of people who will support you. Just ignore any of the idiots." Prim says, stepping forward to grip my arm.

"You don't understand, Prim." I mumble.

"And I'm not going to try to understand," Prim smiles softly at me. "But you've faced worse than a couple of arrogant classmates, haven't you?"

I refuse to answer, worrying at my bottom lip.

"Haven't you?" Prim prompts.

"Yeah, but-"

"Yeah but nothing." Prim says, tugging gently me towards the school by my elbow.

Prim's right. I can do this. I will do this. No matter what people think, I'm not going to let anyone push me around.

"When did you get so smart?" I ask my sister. She grins.

"I've always been smart," She says. I raise my eyebrows and she pulls a face. "And it's not like Peeta will abandon you or anything."

"I know." I say quietly. Prim doesn't hear me and squeezes my hand consolingly once we reach the gates, before running off to her usual meeting point with her friends.

For a minute, I just stand there at the school gates, unsure of where to go, just staring at the crowds of students milling around in front of the school.

"Katniss!" A voice squeals, and I'm yanked violently to the side by a hand on my wrist.

"Whoa okay!" I exclaim, my eyes wide as Madge drags me over the solid ground, up the school steps and into the corridor.

"Katniss, he's such a romantic!" Madge says, pulling me up the stairs.

"Madge, slow down for a second will you?" I ask. Madge pauses, her eyes wide, hair wild. Hardly what the daughter of the Mayor should be, surely? "Thank you! Now, would you care to tell me why you've dragged me in here?"

"Look!" Madge says, pointing along the corridor of lockers. I look in the direction of her finger.

"What?"

"On your locker," Madge says, stepping forward. "I came in early to hand in my project, and saw it." Curiosity filling me, I follow my excited friend to my locker, and find, taped to it, an envelope.

"Did you read it?" I ask.

"Of course not." Madge admonishes. I peel the envelope from the worn painted metal, run my finger under the seal, and pull out a piece of paper. On one side, written in elegant text, is a short message.

_'I wanted to test out the pencils :) What do you think?'_

I frown. There isn't a drawing. I flip the paper over and then I see it.

"Oh." I exhale, running my finger over the drawing on the other side. It's a pair of eyes, my eyes to be exact. Staring back at me, as if I were looking into a mirror. The crease at the corners of my eyes when I smile is there, along with the teeny tiny freckle on the bridge of my nose. You can almost see the reflection in my eyes; the drawing is so clear and precise.

"Peeta drew that, didn't he?" Madge whispers, making me jump. I forgot she was there.

"Yeah."

"Told you he was good."

"But this is like a photograph." I mumble. Madge gently takes the sketch from me and examines it, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinises ever little pencil stroke.

"Are you sure he doesn't have a camera?" She teases.

"Shut up you." I say, taking the paper back and slipping it into the envelope to keep it safe.

A few minutes later, the bell rings and the corridors floods with students. Madge chats about her latest escapades with Mitch as I swap Friday's books for todays.

"I've finally got a hang of riding horses. Mitch thinks I'll be able to start jumping with them too." Madge boasts proudly. I nod with as much enthusiasm as I can manage, and it doesn't take long for my friend to realise that something is wrong.

"It's just that... Because I'm thin, the bump sticks out more," I explain after Madge asks me what's up. "I don't want people to be horrible, to me or to Peeta."

"Well, firstly, you aren't going to be able it forever. And you aren't going to be able to stop people gossiping," Madge says, lifting her glossy tresses from her shoulder to place her bag strap down without snagging her hair. "And Katniss, you aren't thin anymore. You're slim. And honestly? What did you expect? Of course your bump will stick out. That's what happens in pregnancy."

"I know, Madge. I know. But I just don't want all the drama." I sigh, feeling decidedly melancholy.

"You and Peeta are drama," Madge winks. I shake my head and unwrap my scarf and pull off my coat. I'm going to keep Peeta's hoodie on. It's cold in the classrooms, and the smell of my husband-to-be lingers on the soft material, making me feel like I'm permanently being hugged by Peeta. "Valerie is going to kill you." Madge announces as I shut my locker door.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"He gave you his wrestling hoodie! That's like a code! Only girlfriends wear the sports clothing of their boyfriends."

"Technically we're bride and groom to be." I interject quietly.

"But wearing his clothes is like going public, Katniss. Valerie has been trying to snatch one of his hoodies for the past year now! Questions are going to be asked."

"But it's so warm," I say detachedly. "Do you think I should take it off?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I mean, perhaps people won't react like your current 'situation' isn't such a scandal if you start displaying your relationship slowly?"

"Scandal?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Well, yeah." Madge says sheepishly. I nudge her in the ribs.

"So, you ready to cause chaos?" I ask, trying to keep positive.

'Peeta will be there. Peeta won't let me down.' I chant over and over in my head as we set off down the corridor. I tug the sleeves of the jacket over my hands and rest my books against my stomach in an effort to conceal my pregnancy.

"Oh, I see. Now you're wearing his shit?" A familiar voice calls from over the heads of the majority of the student body. I whirl around.

_Gale_.

"What do you want?" I ask. I can feel Madge's questioning gaze fixed on me as I address my friend. Gale walks closer, the crowd parting to let him through.

We haven't seen each other for a couple of days, and I haven't seen the full extent of Gale's injuries due to Peeta. Obviously, he's less hurt that Peeta, because the bakery's son didn't retaliate for quite some time. However, he does have a bruised nose and jaw, from where Peeta's fist made contact with his face.

"It's like he's _branded_ you," Gale continues, his eyes narrowed as he walks backwards. "Possessions are usually branded, Catnip."

"He gave me my hoodie as a gift." I explain. Madge's eyes flicker up to Gale, waiting for his response.

"Charming. What's next? His old socks?"

"Very funny." I scowl.

"Tell Dough Boy that he should watch his back." Gale threatens, looming over Madge and I in a brooding fashion.

"Like you have the balls."

"Not long now! Pretty soon there'll be pretty little blondes running around, unless he can control himself." Gale whispers, ignoring my retort and leaning close to my face.

"Oo-er." Madge rolls her eyes.

"Like you can talk, Undersee. Heard Jones took you down to the Slag Heap over the weekend." At this I shoot Madge a questioning glance.

"That isn't true. The Slag Heap is only for the likes of you." Madge fires back as we continue to walk. I feel about two inches tall, and wish that the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.

"So, have fun living the life, Catnip. Just remember that there are many forms of protection around." Gale taunts. I lock my jaw and bring my hand round to slap my friend, hard. The noise ricochets around the corridor.

"I'd have you know that I have some, thank you very much." I hiss, just loud enough for him to hear. This information combined with my slap shocks Gale and he stands still, letting Madge and I pass.

"Katniss!" Madge hisses. "What do you mean, you 'have some'?"

_Oh, shit. Great_ _word_ _choicing_.

"Madge, I'm joking. Do you really think I would be in this situation if I did?" I say. Madge chuckles and I smile along with her, trying not to think about the box condoms Rye bought Peeta.

Halfway through my third lesson, and I've already been designated first place as the subject of today's gossip. True to Madge's prediction, Valerie shoots razor sharp daggers at me as I make my way to my seat, and glares continuously throughout the first twenty minutes of the class.

Although I haven't been asked directly about my wearing of Peeta's hoodie, or the reasoning behind Gale and mine's blow up in the corridor, I've been able to listen in to the words of Kaytee Crick and Scarlet Mack's conversation, that's teamed with snide remarks and glances my way. Madge remained my rock, thinking up various methods of torture that Valerie was probably planning for me,

At break, I sit on a low wall in the schoolyard, watching as people run past, spotting all the people who are whispering about me.

"Prince Charming at one o'clock." Madge says, nudging me in the side. I look up from the cheese bun I packed into my bag this morning and see Peeta jogging towards me.

"Hey!" I greet him.

"Hi," He says back. Madge looks a way, pretending not to eavesdrop. "How would you like to skip school today?" Peeta asks, smiling shyly at me.

"Skip school?" I ask. "Are you encouraging it?"

"Well, yeah," Peeta grins, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "We've only got Coal Sciences and Maths left over. I don't see why not."

He shoots me a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck. I tie my lip. Damn. He looks adorable.

"Alright, but if I get teachers breathing down my neck for skiving, I'll blame you." I say.

"I'll take that chance," Peeta grins. "I'll go get my stuff and then we can sneak out."

"Okay." I nod. Peeta grins and turns away.

"Oh, and by the way, Madge?" He asks, stopping in his tracks.

"Yeah?" Madge asks, perking up at the mention of her name.

"Mitch won't shut up about you."

Madge squeals beside me after Peeta runs off.

"Mitch is such a cutie!" She sighs. "And you and Peeta, hey? Sneaking off?"

"It's not what you think. We aren't like that." I tell my excited friend.

"Sure." She says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Why? Don't you believe me?" I retort.

Madge says nothing in return. I remain silent, the little voice in my head reminding me of the kiss Peeta and I shared last night. It was perfect. The feeling of his lips against mine still makes my stomach twist, and in a good way. Why does he want to skip school? My mind goes mad trying to think up a plausible conclusion.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

After checking to make sure no teachers are lurking, Katniss and I duck out of the school gates and hurry down the quiet street, only slowing our pace when we round the corner. And even then, we're silent.

I lead the way back to my house with Katniss' hand in mine, pulling her gently along the cobbled road.

"Wait, isn't your Dad or Mom home?" Katniss asks warily.

"My Dad is visiting his brother across town, and Mom is passed out in her room." I say, feeling ashamed to talk about my mother's alcohol problem. She didn't come down stairs until early this morning, and even then she refused to talk to any of us, simply grabbing a new bottle from the cellar and climbing the stairs again. I don't know if I was relieved or not.

Katniss nods and I reach into my shirt to pull out the key hung on a chain around my neck, unlock the door and beckon her inside.

"I didn't expect to be back here so soon." She says, emitting a soft chuckle from me as we step into the kitchen. I grab some of the leftover chocolate cupcakes Dad made yesterday as we pass the ovens.

"Me neither." I reply. We creep up the stairs, and I wince as the wooden steps creak beneath out feet. Even drunk, Mom has sharp senses. The last thing I want is her finding Katniss here.

My first thought when I push my bedroom door open is _'shit. I should've cleared up'. _Various items of clothing are spread over the floor, sketches are strewn on my bed and desk, and the window is wide open, causing the room to be freezing cold.

"Why's the window open?" Katniss asks, rubbing her arms through her jacket.

"Uh, I prefer the window open. Helps me sleep." I shrug, tripping over a shoe as I go to shut the window.

"So why do you keep it open in the day?"

"Habit?" I offer. Katniss smiles. I blush and begin to pick up my clothes and dump them in the wash basket in the hallway. I slip my drawings into the notepad Dad gave me and straighten the duvet. "Uh… sit. Please." I say, motioning to the bed. Katniss sits, sucking her cheeks in as she gazes around my room.

"You can see everything way better in the daylight." She says, letting out a snort after realising the implications of what she's just said.

"Yep." I nod in agreement, rubbing the back of my neck. '_And when you're sober_' I think to myself.

"Thanks," Katniss continues. "For the drawing."

"You're welcome." I say.

"Madge told me how good you were, but that was almost like a photograph," She pushes a strand of hair from her face, and behind her ear. "How did you learn to draw so well?"

"I just… picked it up I guess," I say. "When I was little, before Mom got…bad, she would let me finger paint on the wall outside. And Dad thought I was really good, and got me wax crayons and stuff. It went from there." I say, remembering the day Dad found out that I'd been doodling all over my schoolbooks.

* * *

'_Peeta? What are you drawing on?' Daddy asks as he comes into the kitchen. I look up and attempt to hide the brightly coloured sketches I've drawn in between the margins of the notebook. _

_He's told me again and again to stop it, because old Mrs Green stopped him when he came to pick me up and told him that although my creativity was good, it wasn't as good when it was all over my homework. _

'_You aren't doing it again, are you?' He asks gently, placing the trays in his arms onto the countertop. _

'_It was only a tiny bit.' I say, twirling the garishly orange crayon between my fingers. _

'_Peet, come on. You know that you shouldn't do that,' Dad says. 'Why don't you use one of your notepads instead?'_

'_I did, but Mommy thought it was silly and ripped it up.' I reply, looking up at the door leading to the shop front as if Mommy is going to show up any second and scold me- or worse, hit me again. Daddy's face goes sad and he places a hand on my shoulder._

'_Why didn't you tell me?'_

'_Mommy said I couldn't.' I look down at the papers spread in front of me._

'_I'll get you a new pad, son,' My father promises. He looks through my schoolbook. 'These are pretty darn good!'_

'_Not really. Not as good as the ones in the schoolbooks.'_

'_Oh, Peeta,' Daddy chuckles, rubbing his hand over his jaw. 'They're rubbish. I think you're a much better drawer than anyone in Panem.'_

'_Really?'_

'_Definitely. Now, how about you finish your homework- without doodling –and then you can come and choose a new notepad to use.' Daddy says, taking the crayon from me and replacing it with a pencil._

* * *

I realise that I've been lost in my own thoughts for a while, and my eyes come back into focus. Katniss smiles at me.

"You okay?" She asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I say. Katniss crosses her legs and looks down.

"So… Why did you convince me to skip school?" She asks.

"Oh. Yeah."

"Yeah." Katniss grins, finding my awkwardness funny.

"To be fair, you didn't need much convincing." I say. Katniss backhands my arm.

"Alright, Baker Boy, alright." She teases.

"I was talking with my Dad this morning, about us two getting a house, and he said that under special circumstances, a couple moving into a house before they are married is sometimes allowed," I say nervously. Katniss pauses, picking at the blanket beneath her. "Is this too sudden?" I ask.

"No, no. Not at all."

"Oh."

"Special circumstances?" She asks, her lips curving up into a smirk. I nod. "Is unplanned pregnancy included?"

"I think so." I chuckle.

"But don't both sides of the couple have to be seventeen?" She says, her eyebrows knitting together into a frown.

"With parental permission, you can move into a house aged sixteen."

"So basically, if you get pregnant, you can have your own house?" Katniss asks.

"Yeah…"

"Seems like a pretty easy way of getting around the system, don't you think?"

"I don't see any of my class mates having a baby, do you?" I ask, my words coming out harsher than I intended. Katniss bites her lip and looks down. "I didn't mean it like that." I apologise.

"No, I know exactly what you mean," Katniss sniffs. "This wasn't what I had planned. I don't actually know what I thought I was planning in the first place, but ending up pregnant and engaged to the one and only Peeta Mellark wasn't at the top of the list," A single tear falls slowly down her cheek, and she roughly wipes it away with the back of her hand before I can do it for her. "I don't know what's happening to me. Why am I even crying?"

"Katniss, hey. Don't cry." I say, moving forward and pulling her towards me, rubbing her back soothingly.

"I'm soaking your shirt." She mumbles.

"I've made you cry in under five minutes." I reply, earning a choked sob/chuckle.

"I want to move in with you, Peeta. I think it will be good for us, and the baby."

"Are you sure?"

"I am now."

"Dad said that we could possibly find a house in the next few days, and move all our stuff in during the weekend, before Christmas."

"_Before_ Christmas?" Katniss asks, pulling away.

"It can be New Year, if you want." I stumble over my words. _Nice going, Mellark._

"I'm just a bit surprised, you know. Everything seems to be happening at once."

"I know exactly how you feel." I say. Katniss takes a deep shuddering breath.

"Oh, God." She whispers, her grey eyes suddenly widening.

"What?" I ask, looking over my shoulder. Has Mom come into the room? No.

"How am I going to be able to afford everything?" Katniss says, looking horrified. "A baby needs a crib, and bottles and diapers and toys and clothes and blankets. And what about furnishing the house? And-"

"And I'm here too! I'll help. Don't worry. Everything will be okay," I reassure her. "We'll sit on the floor if it comes to it," I offer her a smile. "We'll be able to buy everything."

"With what?" Katniss exclaims. I shush her, praying that Mom is too deep in alcohol to hear us. "I have barely enough money to keep my house from falling down," She continues, lowering her voice just a little. "And, no offence, but I doubt that you have enough money from working at the bakery to buy all this."

"No offence taken."

"Peeta! This is serious."

"I know it is. I'm serious too. I'll get another job."

"Where?"

"I don't know," I admit. Katniss looks down at her stomach and rubs it thoughtfully. "Somewhere."

"I just don't want it to be like me. Cold and closed off because I had to grow up real fast. I don't want it to be so hungry that it has to sell furniture to get some coins." She says, struggling to fight the wobble in her voice.

"And it wont be. Because he or she is going to have you as a Mom, and you are fiercely protective of the people you love." I say sincerely. Katniss smiles softly, her cheeks darkening slightly.

"You're going to be the father." She begins.

"That's news to me." I joke. Katniss shoves my shoulder and I fall back onto the bed. Katniss leans over me, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"You know what I mean! You're going to be a great Dad. I know you will."

"Thanks." I grin. Katniss smiles back at me, her braid falling from her shoulder and almost whacking me in the face.

"Sorry." She laughs.

"S'okay." I tell her.

"You're gonna be a good husband, Peeta Mellark." Katniss says gently.

"And you're gonna be a beautiful, brilliant wife, Katniss Everdeen." I reply. Katniss sticks the tip of her tongue out and wets her lips, hesitating before leaning down and pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is brief, sweet and closed mouthed, but my brain goes into overdrive. Katniss pulls away and smiles timidly at me, before resting her head on my chest.

"Beautiful?" She asks. I nod in response. She lets out a bark of a laugh. "Just wait until you see my morning hair, I think you'll change your mind."


	27. Chapter 27: Thoughts

**Woo look at me updating quickly ;) Okay, okay. I finally got my shit together after procrastinating and playing Just Dance and sat down and wrote... So voila! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favourited or simply read my story. In answer to _livie's_ question: Peeta is older than Katniss, by about 5 months, but they are still in the same year at school. Sorry for any confusion :P Sorry for typos as well!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

"Fuck."

"What?"

For the past hour, Peeta and I have been lying side-by-side, staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom, talking about everything and anything. My body is still tingling in the aftermath of the kiss. The kiss that _I_ initiated and Peeta _didn't_ turn away. And his bed is really comfortable too, much more so than the lumpy thin blocks we have back in the Seam.

And everything, even down to the air in the room, smells like Peeta. Of fresh soap, fresh bread, and a sweet underlying scent of icing. While Gale smells like forest air, coal dust and the special powder Hazelle uses to make their clothes last longer.

There I go again, comparing Peeta with Gale. I don't know why I'm doing it- usually I just catch myself and have to remind myself that these two people are completely different, whether it's their appearance, right down to the deepest, darkest pits of their souls.

I understand Gale. I know his fears, his hopes, his plans. He is... Or maybe _was_... My best friend, and even though it took almost a year for me to loosen up a little around him, I'm still one of the only people who truly understands him. Or so I thought. I'm trying my best to attempt to get my head around his reasoning for attacking Peeta like that. Other than the fact that he's simply being protective, I can't imagine why. Surely he would've known that doing that would do nothing but make me angry with him?

However, Peeta is someone I'm yet to learn more about. Basic information is all I know, and when I say basic, I mean really basic. Like that he has his windows open and night to help him sleep. And that he double-knots his shoe laces. But things like _his_ fears, hopes and plans are unknown to me. Hopefully, in the upcoming weeks, months, and years, I'll be able to learn more about the boy with the bread.

"I think I told Gale about the condoms Rye bought you." I say. Peeta tilts his head to look at me quizzingly.

"What? Are you trying to get him to kill me?" He asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes playfull.

"No, I just... Blurted it out. Unintentionally. He was taunting me and I got pissed."

"He was taunting you? When?" Peeta asks worriedly, frowning at me. I shake my head.

"It's nothing."

"It's something to me, Katniss." I bite my lip and sigh.

"It was this mornin' before class. He was just making jibes about me wearing your hoodie, which probably wasn't a smart idea in the first place, and he said 'remember that there are many forms of protection around.' And, of course, I forgot to use my brain and said 'i'd have you know that I have some, thank you very much'."

Peeta is silent for a moment, a smile creeping slowly onto his face.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. We walked away."

"Bravo." Peeta claps and flashes me a thumbs up. I kick his leg.

"He told you to watch your back." I add.

Peeta gasps, feigning fright.

"I'd be careful through. He can do some real damage. And you still have bruises." I caution, raising my eyebrows.

"I'll walk in lighted streets." Peeta promises.

"There are like four lighted streets in District 12, Peeta. How are you going to stay on just four streets?" I ask.

"I can do everything," Peeta boasts. "Oh, wait. You knew that already."

"Very funny."

Again, we fall into comfortable silence. I watch Peeta's shirt stretching and straining every time he inhales and exhales out of the corner of my eye.

"What's your favourite colour?" I ask might as well start getting to know the father of my child while I'm here.

"Orange." Peeta replies.

"Orange? Really? I always thought you would like a subdued colour."

"Not bright orange. A muted orange- like a sunset." He adds.

"Ah, I see." I nod solemnly.

"I know that you love the colour green. But light green, like for-"

"Forest leaves." I finish, my lips turning upward into a smile.

"Favourite food?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?"

"More than twenty." Peeta scoffs.

And this is how it continues for the next hour. Peeta and I fire question after question at each other.

"Favourite food?"

I say cheese buns, Peeta says banana and raisin cake.

"Favourite animal?"

Squirrel. Human.

"Human? You can't say human!" I say.

"Why not?" Peeta says indignantly. "You only said squirrel because you eat them. When am I ever going to eat a human?"

"Favourite season?"

Spring. Autumn.

"Day or night?"

Day, for both of us.

"Fruit or vegetables?"

Vegetables. Undecided.

"Snow or heat wave?"

Unfair question. Snow.

By the time midday comes round, Mr Mellark can be heard serving customers downstairs, and Peeta and I resort to eating the slightly stale cupcakes He brought up when we got here. Peeta attempts to teach me to draw, but gives up after a good half hour's effort and a question of:

"How the fuck does that look like a cat?"

And my answer of:

"What?! It's got a head, body, tail and ears! What else does it need?!"

I suspect that Peeta's father full well knows that his youngest son and soon-to-be-daughter-in-law are just above him, but if he does, it's kind of him not to send us back to school.

"What does Prim think of all this?" Peeta asks me, looking up from his sketch pad to add extra detail to the drawing of my Mockingjay pin, that is currently attached to the strap of my school bag.

"Of what?"

"Of us. Of what has happened, and what will happen?" Peeta explains, adding more shading to his sketch.

"To be honest, I haven't actually had a proper heart-to-heart yet. But you know Prim. She loves everyone and everything." I shrug.

"I think she'll like being an Aunt."

"Definitely," I grin. "What about your brothers?"

"Oh, Jesus." Peeta shakes his head.

"Uncle Fen and Uncle Rye?" I suggest. Peeta looks up at me and raises his eyebrows.

"I don't even have words to describe my feelings about Fen and Rye. In the long run I'm assured that they won't be stupid, but right now, I'm kinda hanging in the balance."

"And your parents?"

"Mom... Well, you know what she thinks. Eventually she'll come around, I'm sure," he sighs. "My Dad, he's disappointed, to say the least."

"Disappointed?"

"Yeah, he thought that it would be Rye to get us into deep water first, not me. But I can tell that he's excited to be a grandfather." Peeta's brow crinkles.

"He said that he wanted it to be a girl." I tell him, crossing and uncrossing my legs.

"Uh, yeah." Peeta nods.

"Thoughts?" I prompt, rubbing the top of my tummy thoughtfully.

"Well, when my Mom got pregnant with me, she was told by all her friends that it looked like she was going to have a girl. So, when I turned up instead, she was pissed. had to sell all the pink stuff she had bought. My Dad has never had a preferred gender of his child, but still thinks that raising three boys is a complete nightmare because we're 'noisy' and 'messy' and 'irresponsible'," Peeta curves his fingers into quotation marks as he Imitates his father's low voice. "He wants a granddaughter to spoil, basically."I raise my eyebrows.

"You know, I hate to burst your bubble and all, but you are noisy. And messy. And irresponsible."

"Whatever." Peeta lets out a laugh. I throw a pillow at him, which he catches and sends flying back towards me.

"Are you really going to have a pillow fight with me?" I challenge. Peeta bites his lip, fighting a grin, before closing his notepad and putting it and his pencil on the desk behind him, and picking up a pillow from his bed.

"I think I should be the one asking that question, not you." He says. I stand and whack him over he head with the pillow. He stands his ground, so I do it again and again and again.

"You've gotta fight back, you moron."

"You were warned." Peeta shrugs, swinging his arms back and hitting me again. I strike back, letting out a very un-Katniss like giggle.

Peeta is right though, he can hit well. After a good match I fall back onto his bed and wave my hands in surrender.

"Okay, you win," I say. "But it wasn't a fair match. I'm pregnant, and you've had practice with wrestling and stuff." I say, trying to slow my breathing.

"What do you think happens at wrestling practice? We don't have massive pillow fights in the school hall, you know." Peeta says. I roll my eyes.

"Don't make up excuses."

"Excuses for my superiority?" Peeta gives me a pointed look.

"Fuck you."

"Charming." Peeta and I try to stare each other down for approximately five seconds, but Peeta's the first to break, letting out a laugh.

"Well, since you don't have a middle name, I'll let you have 'charming'." I say.

"Peeta Charming Mellark?"

"Why not?"

"You'll allow it?"

"Yes," I nod, sitting upright. "I'll allow it."

* * *

-Peeta-

I smile at Katniss and go to my sketch pad, ripping out the finished Mockingjay pin drawing and handing it to her.

"For you." I say. Katniss takes it and stares.

"It's ridiculous how well you can draw." She says, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're only saying that because you're crap." I say. Katniss' mouth deals open.

"i'm going to take you hunting, and then we'll see who's best." She says.

"That isn't fair."

"We've both had practice at both our skills. It _is_ fair."

"I can bake too." I say.

"I'm gonna kill you." Katniss growls.

Suddenly, the sound of something smashing from across the corridor causes us to pause and we freeze, our shoulders tensing as we listen intently for the creaking of floorboards or opening of doors. I spin around and face the door, waiting.

Please. Please don't let Mom come in here and find us. All I wanted out of this was a day with Katniss, where I would be able to really talk to her about us. To figure out where we were after last night's kiss.

"Peeta?" She asks quietly. I turn and face her.

"I think she heard us laughing." I whisper.

"Shit."

"That's an understatement."

"Peeta!"

"Sorry."

"What are we going to do?" Katniss asks, her voice panicked.

"Hide in the wardrobe," I say. She shoots me an exasperated look. "It's that or under my bed." Katniss scowls. I go over to the barely painted piece of furniture and open the double doors. Katniss gets inside and hides behind the rail of clothing.

"Didn't think I'd end up here either." She rolls her eyes.

"Sorry." I say, flashing her an apologetic grin before closing the door, and throwing a blanket over Katniss' bag, which is lying on my bed, just in time for Mom to enter the room.

My mother is in a sorry state. Her hair is greasy and pulled into a ponytail, and it looks like she hasn't slept for days. If she was wearing pants and a stained jacket, she would be a dead ringer for Haymitch during the weekends, which is when he staggers around grumbling about the 'fucking annoying' students of Second School and 'squealing brats' of First.

"Why are _you_ here?" She slurs, her eyes bleary as she squints at me.

"I forgot my homework. Teacher let me come back and get it." I lie easily, forcing myself to stay for used on my mother, and not glance to the wardrobe that Katniss is current toy hiding in. Mom would see that, and immediately know something was up.

"That girl isn't here, is she?" Mom sneers, looking around the room.

"What girl?" I ask, deciding to play it cool.

"You know exactly what who I'm talking about! Everdeen! The coal-dust covered slut you knocked up! The Seam rat!" I wince at every insult. Katniss is undoubtedly gritting her teeth at this very moment.

"Don't call her that."

"I'll call her what I damn well want to, you ungrateful child!"

"Katniss isn't here, Mom. It's just me." I say tiredly. Mom frowns.

"Don't ever let her her my house ever again, you here me?" I nod. "Disgusting people. They should never be allowed near us."

"Do you want a glass of water?" I offer, guest earring to the jug sitting on my desk. Mom nods. I pour her a drink and hand it to her.

"Get back to school. I don't want you here any longer than you have to be."

"Yes, Ma'am." I nod. Mom leaves the room. I don't breathe a sigh of relief until I hear the door to my parent's bedroom lock shut.

"Is she gone?" Katniss' disembodied voice calls from my left.

"She's gone." I say, opening the doors. Katniss steps out and straightens her braid.

"I can't believe you offered her water after what she said to you." Katniss says, her grey eyes sad.

"I can't believe you didn't storm out of there and slap her." I say. Katniss smiles sheepishly. I look up at the clock nailed to my wall. We have under half an hour before school ends. Wow. That went fast.

"We should get going," Katniss says, pulling her bag up onto her shoulder. Her foot kicks something hidden under my bed, so she bends down to see what it is. "You put our baby under your bed?" She asks incredulously, pulling out the flour sack we were assigned so many weeks ago.

"That was the only place where it was safe."

"The floor?"

"It was this or being used in the kitchen." I say. Katniss sighs and pushes the sack of flour back under the bed.

"Effie wkill have our guts for garters if she finds out."

"Capitol fashion may be weird, but not _that_ weird," I grin. Katniss pulls a face and waits for me as I pull on my boots. We wait at the top of the stairs, and I listen to my Dad bustling around in the kitchen. "When he goes past and into the shop, we'll sneak out into the back." I instruct softly. Katniss nods. Dad walks back into the shop front, holding a basket of bread rolls. I step down the first step, my boots large and clunky compared to the soft leather ones that have moulded into the shape of Katniss' feet, like a second skin to her.

Once we get to the bottom, I pause again, before heading towards the kitchen, and crossing the tiled floor and pulling the heavy backdoor open. Katniss slips past me, and I close it as quietly as I can, before we half run, half walk down the side street.

"You going to the Winter Ball on Friday?" I ask, deciding to strike while the iron's hot. Katniss looks at me, and half smiles.

"Mom and Prim want me to. Why?"

"Would you come with me?" I question hopefully.

"Friday?"

"It starts at seven, in the square." I inform her as we round the corner. The school gates are in sight. There are a few parents waiting outside the gates for the youngest students To come out of the old grey building.

"I'd love to go with you, Peeta." She says.

"Are you sure?" I ask. Katniss nods.

"I'll pick you up at seven." I say.

"I'll wear something warm." Katniss grins.

* * *

End note: If we can get to 320+ (my lucky number :3) reviews for this chapter, I will update on Tuesday. Promise :D


	28. Chapter 28: The Winter Ball

**Thanks for all the reviews guys! :D Well, we defiantly got over 320 reviews, so here. As promised. The next chapter…. I was intending for this story to have 32 chapters at the most, but that obviously isn't happening anymore. What happened? ;) Also, tell me if you catch the pretty obvious HP reference :D**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

District 12's annual winter ball isn't really a ball at all.

As Christmas Day approaches, the streets of the Merchant Quarters slowly become more festive, with garlands and ribbons and pretty lights in some shops and homemade wreaths getting pinned to doorways and shop fronts. I can remember my Dad taking me to the Winter Ball once, when I was about eight years old, leaving Mom and Prim in front of the fire with colds.

"When I was a boy, we used to be able to have rides on the old shire horses down into town." He would tell me, squeezing my hand. We would go to the square and he would count out six gold coins into my palm, making me promise to buy Prim something using half, and the rest could be used for myself.

Endless rows of stalls, it seemed, were lining the edge of the square, leaving a large space empty for a simple band at one end and enough empty cobbled ground to make a dance floor. But it was the stalls that pulled me in. This was one of the only times of year, apart from the Harvest Festival in September and the Spring festival in May, when traders from the Hob were allowed to legally sell their wares.

That year I can remember buying a little wooden doll and a cupcake and a length of ribbon for Prim, and spent my half on a piece of cake from the bakery that was filled with spices, nuts, raisins and pieces of (after asking my father for the name of the wrinkled yellow slices) dried banana. The rest of the money stayed in my pocket for later use.

The Ball is also an excuse for Merchant girls to get brand new dresses before Christmas, and show them off, hopefully hanging on a boy's arm in the process. I've always found it a little wasteful, ever since my father's death, but the simplicity of the warm festive feeling that engulfs the district is infectious, and I usually end up taking Prim, unless Prim goes with Rory like last year.

However, this year is different because _I_ _actually have someone to go with_.

My fiancé, Peeta Mellark.

The words fiancé and Peeta Mellark still feel foreign on my tongue.

"Is Rory taking you to the ball?" I ask Prim as we walk away from the school gates. My sister's usually pale completion turns red and she nods. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that." I say, cupping my hand around my ear and leaning towards her.

"Yes, he's taking me!" Prim says.

"Why are you so embarrassed?" I ask. "It's adorable. Dorky Rory crushing on my little sister!"

"Don't call him dorky." Prim sniffs.

"Alright, Little Duck. I won't," I say, hiding my smile. The youngest male Hawthorne is kinda dorky though. While Gale is the tall, dark and brooding one, and Vick is the show-off, Rory is more awkward around the opposite sex. He's been crushing on Prim for the past two years now. "You wearing that pink dress?"

"The one with the little bow in the middle?" I nod. "Yeah."

"Wear a ribbon in your hair as well." I advise. Prim stares at me. I widen my eyes in a _'what?_' gesture.

"Why are you so interested in what I'm wearing all of a sudden?"

"It isn't illegal, is it?"

"It's the baby hormones, isn't it? You seem different." Prim observes.

"Well, I think it's good thing, me being interested in what you are going to wear." I say.

"And I'm not sayin' it isn't," Prim says. "It's just... Weird."

"Good weird, or bad weird?" I ask warily.

"Good weird." Prim grins.

"Are you excited to be an Aunt?" I ask as we reach the top of the hill on the Seam track, our breath steaming into the air.

"Of course I am!" My sister gushes. "I'm going to be Aunt Prim and spoil he or she rotten!" I smile and bite back my response of _'spoil it with what?'_.

"Peeta said that his Dad is going to spoil it too, especially if it's a girl." I tell her, watching a group of boys kick around a ball up ahead on the road.

"What do you think it's going to be?"

"I don't know."

"You don't have a feeling?"

"A feeling?"

"You know," Prim presses her lips together. "A _feeling_."

"I have no idea," I roll my shoulders, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. Prim spins on her heel and walks backwards, staring intently at my stomach for a few long seconds, before turning back to my side and tilting her head. "What are you doing?" I ask her.

"Boys sit lower than girls. I'm trying to work out if it's a boy or girl."

"You can't tell the gender of a baby by just looking at the bump." I say, drawing my eyebrows together into a frown.

"I can try." Prim says.

"What do you think then?" I ask.

"To me, it looks like a girl. But you should ask Mom. She knows more than me." Prim concludes.

The feeling of my chest tightening scares me, but I realise that it isn't bad, but the good feeling of pride and love. A girl? An image of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed female version of Peeta pops into my mind. Maybe she'll be baking prodigy too. I look down at my stomach and pull my bottom lip with my teeth. Prim bumps her shoulder against mine.

"You're getting tall." I say, gauging the height difference between our shoulders.

"A few more inches at I'll be your height!" Prim grins.

"Is everyone taller than me?" I ask, only half-joking. I can only hope that my baby will have Peeta's genes, and will grow to be tall, unlike me. Standing beside Peeta, I only reach his chest, and Gale is even taller.

"I think so." Prim laughs. I roll my eyes.

"I'm gonna go hunting before it snows heavily." I say.

"And before you start waddling."

"I will not be waddling."

"We'll see."

"Yeah, we'll see." I say to my sister, dropping my bag in her arms. She pushes her scarf and hat into my arms, insisting that I wear them. The added warmth from the knitted items is welcomed, and I blow on my hands in an effort to keep them warm as I cross the meadow and slide under the fence.

It feels like forever since I've been in the forest. I inhale the frigid air, filling my lungs, and the baby kicks.

"Whoa, little one. Did you miss the woods?" I ask softly, rubbing my stomach as I follow the worn animal trails into the densely packed trees. My bow feels familiar and comforting as I hold it in my hands and sling my quiver over my shoulder. Quickly and quietly, I set to work at stalking the animals that have strayed outside from their warm nests. After almost an hour, I've caught three rabbits, their fur turning dappled with white to camouflage in the snow, two squirrels and two grooslings that were unfortunate to be stuck in the district instead of moving south to warmer weather.

The rocky outcrop that provides a marker for Gale and mine's meeting point also serves as a great place to pluck feathers of skin kills, the rock is flat and steady, a natural chopping board. But as I sit there and pull out the feathers (which I'm going to keep and give to Mom so she can stuff the pillows) I feel like I'm missing something. Or rather, _someone_.

Gale has been my hunting partner for as long as I can remember. I'm used to feeling his presence beside me, and I've always felt slightly off-balance when he isn't here. I should talk to him. Really, he should be the one to apologise, but Gale is too stubborn to do that. I suppose I'll have to force him to apologise, to spit out the words 'I'm sorry' to the guy he has undoubtedly given the honour of top of the list of people he hates.

As I walk to the Hob, my game bag pleasantly heavy, I find myself looking for Gale. Where is he? Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since Monday, when I slapped him in the school corridor. It's now Thursday. In two days time I'll be moving in to a Capitol-issue box of a house in the Merchant housing sector with my fellow classmate, and getting married. He's still my best friend, and has a right to know this, despite how much I want to twang the string of my bow against his face. And that bloody hurts. I've got _scars_ up and down my arms as proof.

Peeta told me at school, after we had been scolded for not bringing our flour sack baby to school by Effie. Haymitch just rolled his eyes as Miss Trinket's ridiculous hair wobbled on top of her head. Mr Mellark had managed to pull some strings down at the Justice Building, and persuaded the magistrate to let us move into a house before we were married. A bottle of Capitol wine, a chocolate cake and a vague explanation of exactly why a home was needed was all it took to get us a house. Fen, Rye and Mr Mellark have offered to help move my pitiful amount of belongings to our new house, but we wont have any furniture for weeks, until the baby is either born or we get jobs.

Greasy Sae eagerly accepts two rabbits and slides them under the counter of her booth, before pulling me down to sit and dumping a bowl of broth in front of me.

"On the house, deary." She smiles kindly.

"Thanks, Sae." I say, my feet aching as I swing them back and forth.

"I haven't seen you for a while. Everythin' alright?" The older woman asks, adjusting the coin pouch around her rotund waist.

"Yup, I'm good." I nod. I wonder if I should tell Sae about my pregnancy, and my marriage to Peeta. No doubt that she'll hear about it soon. I swear, people in District 12 live for gossip.

"You and Gale fightin'?" Sae asks, stirring the cauldron beside her absentmindedly. "He came in here Monday afternoon with a black eye and a red mark on his cheek. Tell me that wasn't your doing."

I squirm in my seat.

"Katniss!"

"I didn't give him the black eye. But I slapped him at school."

"Why?"

"There was a… disagreement." I say, looking down at my bowl.

"Who gave him the black eye?"

"A townie." I say.

"A townie?" Sae laughs and then coughs loudly, slapping her chest with her fist. "Why?"

"Gale hit him first." I shrug.

"Was it the baker's son?" I freeze in my seat.

"Gale and Rye have never exactly got on…"

"You know I don't mean Rye. Or the eldest. Finley, is it?"

"It's Fenton."

"How'd you know that?" I shrug. "But Peeta was the one who gave Gale that black eye. Bleedin' good one too." Sae shoots me a soft smile. I drop the spoon into the bowl and hold my head in my hands, resting my elbows on the countertop.

"Sae, don't say nothing, but…" I stumble over my words.

"Spit it out." Sae says.

"I can't exactly just spit it out," I grumble. Straightening my back, I look around the Hob for anyone who may be eavesdropping. Leaning forward, I lower my voice until it's barely a whisper. "I'm p-pregnant, Sae." I admit, drawing frantic circles on the grain of the wood.

Sae bends over the table, until she's inches from my ear. "You thought I didn't know, didn't you?" She chuckles. My head whips up so fast my bones crack.

"You _knew_?" I hiss. Sae shakes her head in laughter.

"Of course I did! Have you ever seen someone in the Seam getting fatter due to food? Especially in the winter. And in the shape of a baby belly?" I fold my hands over my chest.

"How long?"

"I guessed a few weeks ago."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Nope."

"Why?!"

"Didn't think it was my business at the time." Sae says. I frown.

"And what makes you think that it's your business _now_?"

"Well, that dirty big ring on your finger makes it pretty obvious that somethin's happenin'." Sae says.

"Sae!" I cry, standing up from my seat.

"I'm old, not stupid!" Sae chortles. I scowl, coming around to her side of the booth.

"How many people do you think know?"

"Not many. But rumours are flyin'." Sae says, patting my arm gently. I rub the bridge of my nose and sigh. Staring and pointing people aren't what in need right now. Preferably, I'd be able to hide forever and never face anyone or anything.

"I can't have people staring at me." I say, the whine in my voice high pitched and needy.

"Who's the father? And it definitely isn't Gale." Sae says knowingly.

"No, Gale isn't the father. He's pissed at the father, that's for sure. And the father's pissed at him too." I mumble.

"I'd like a name, please."

"Peeta Mellark." I whisper. Sae presses her lips together.

"He'll do you good. Don't worry." She says.

"How do you know that?"

"Girl, I know you're sometimes oblivious to the advances of others, but you can't tell me that you honestly haven't noticed the way that boy looks at you."

My cheeks flush and I shift my weight from foot to foot. Peeta is a nice guy, a guy I admit I have feelings for. But telling people out loud is still something that trips me up on the home stretch.

"Peeta is good for me. I know that." I mumble.

"You two getting' married?"

"Yeah."

"He's seventeen, isn't he?"

"His birthday was on Sunday."

"Are you waiting until May?" Sae asks. "Because by the looks of it, you'll have burst by then." I cringe at the wording used.

"His father, Mr Mellark, managed to pull some strings at the Justice Building. We're moving in on Saturday."

"This Saturday?" I nod. "Goodness me."

"I know."

"Are you ready for the responsibility?"

"Hell no." I scoff.

"You'll be fine, Katniss darling'. If you can look after your sister and mother and house aged eleven, I think you'll be okay aged sixteen with a hunky baker like Peeta."

"Sae!" I blush.

"You'll be considered the Devil himself for snagging him."

"So I've been told!" I say. Sae pulls me into a hug, rubbing the space in between my shoulder blades. I sigh. "I just don't know how we're gonna do this. The only furniture we've managed to scrape together is a bed, a wardrobe, a manky old sofa and a table and chairs. We don't have enough stuff to look after a baby. We need a crib and bottles clothes and so much stuff and time that we don't have!" Sae grips my shoulders tightly and gives me a shake.

"Snap out of it, child. How many months are you?"

"Five and a bit."

"Jesus- Alright, well. You've got four months left to prepare. It's not like the baby is due in the next few days. Calm down, stop stressing'." She advises, locking eyes with me. I nod.

"Okay."

"Everythin' will be alright, promise. I'll get my son to drop off the old crib I used over the weekend."

"Sae, thank you." I say gratefully.

"Think nothing of it. When am I gonna need a crib, anyway?"

"Doesn't your granddaughter use it?" I ask.

"Not anymore. It's yours. A housewarming gift."

* * *

**Friday** dawns bright and icy and busy. School is buzzing with anticipation. By the time the final bell rings, I'm seriously considering pulling Marlene redwood into the forest and stringing her up by her 'oh so beautiful silk stockings!'. Prim's excited energy is slightly irritating, and I can't get a single word in edgeways as she bounces up and down on her toes as we walk back home.

"And Rory bought me a corsage!" She squeals, pulling the item out of her school bag and showing me. "Isn't it beautiful?"

And she's right. It is beautiful. A dark pink Primrose flower surrounded by furry little fern leaves. It's beautifully simple. Rory must have been saving up for over two months to by something like this. The florist must make a killing around this time of year.

"It's lovely Prim." I say, touching the delicate flower with my fingertips. Prim grins and puts it carefully back into her rucksack.

Mom has a bath waiting for Prim when we get home, and I reheat the water an hour or two later, after getting frustrated trying to knit. Mom tells me again and again that the needle goes under, not over, but I still get it wrong, ending up with a knotted bundle and a headache. We eat a light dinner and Prim gets more excited by the second. She asks about Peeta continuously.

"Do you think he'll wear a suit?" She wonders.

"No-one is wearing a suit to the ball." I say.

"But what if?"

"Shut up and eat your pears." I tell her. Prim and I dress quickly, our skin pebbling in the cold air, and Mom brushes her golden hair with a comb so the soft curls that have formed from her hair being in braids all day don't come undone, before giving us some money for the night ahead.

My lack of formal wear is sorta depressing, but with the help of Mom's sewing needle, she manages to let out a green dress just enough so it actually fits me. I wear a thick pair of tights and two pairs of socks over that, along with my boots and my jacket and my hat and scarf. I leave my hair in a braid, and have just batted Prim and a kohl pencil away when there's a light rap on the door.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I've never really met any of the other Hawthorne children. But Rory Hawthorne seems much nicer than his older brother. He swings his arms back and forth as he walks, calling my name as the Everdeen house comes into view. I wonder how he knows it.

"So, you're the one who punched my brother?" He asks. Wow, this kid sure doesn't beat around the bush.

"Uh, he punched me first." I say. He notes the black eye that's still fading to a yellowy-green discolouring of my skin.

"Your fault. He cares a lot about Katniss and can get pretty protective." He says casually, as if I hadn't figured that out already.

"Is he still angry with me?" I ask warily. Rory's laugh echoes down the street.

"Yeah he is, but he'll get over it pretty soon, I'm sure."

"For a twelve-year-old, you sure know your stuff." I comment.

"I'll assume that's a compliment."

We walk in silence for a minute or two, but it doesn't get awkward. I decide that I like this boy.

"So… what are you doing in our neck of the woods?" Rory asks.

"I'm taking Katniss to the ball," I say. Rory raises his eyebrows and secures his hands behind his back, stopping them from swinging. "What about you?"

"I'm taking Prim."

"You have good taste, my friend." I chuckle. Rory fist bumps me and nods. I begin to feel very old. I haven't fist bumped anyone for years.

Rory knocks on the door to the Everdeen household and stands back a little. I stay on the dusty path, my hands shoved into my pockets. Katniss opens the door, her cheeks pink, and gestures for us to enter the household, half occupied with batting Prim away.

"I don't want any kohl!" She says. I smile and follow the smaller boy into the house, ducking my head so I don't hit the top of the low doorframe.

"Hey, Katniss." I say. Katniss waves at me and disappears from the room. Beside me, Rory is reduced to a red-eared, blubbering mess.

"S- so you like the corsage?" He asks Prim, the rather witty young man I saw not two minutes previous vanishing. "I thought it would be good… to you know… get a Primrose flower. Because your name is Primrose." I groan inwardly at his awkwardness. Prim seems to find it endearing and nods, displaying the corsage that's around her wrist, pressing a kiss to Rory's cheek. Poor kid almost faints. I raise my eyebrows.

"Sorry about this… mess." Katniss says, coming into the room, her mother following close behind.

"What mess?" I ask, looking around the kitchen, which is covered in empty dinner plates and piles of washing and other bits and pieces. Mrs Everdeen rolls her eyes.

"Peeta, you don't have to pretend you can't see it." She says.

"See what?" I persist. Katniss shoves me.

"Make sure you aren't too late." Katniss' mother says, eyeing Rory and I.

"We won't." Prim and her sister chorus, heading for the doorway.

"And have a good time!" She says as the door closes.

Prim and Rory walk ahead, and Prim grabs her date's hand when he flounders nervously.

"It's funny. On the way here, Rory was quite confident." I remark. Katniss laughs.

"He fancies the socks off Prim. I'm not surprised that he goes all dorky." I smile fondly and take Katniss' hand.

"See. I can hold my date's hand." I say, holding our hands in the air. Katniss grins and leans into me.

"Well done." She says sarcastically.

"I got you a corsage too." I say, rummaging in the pocket of my coat, tucking my chin into the material of my (Fen's) scarf.

"Oh, Peeta. You didn't have to. I'm hardly dressed for it." Katniss grumbles, looking down at her clothes. I think she looks the beautiful, the green dress suits her perfectly, her padded coat over the top with a mustard yellow hat and a blue scarf. Her worn boots complete the look.

"You look beautiful." I tell her.

"As my fiancé, you're obliged to say that." Katniss replies. I hand her the corsage and she pulls her hand from mine to cup it in her palms.

"Peeta, this is… beautiful. Thank you." She says. I smile. She likes it. That's good.

"It's not glittery or feathery or anything. But I didn't think you'd like that." I say.

"I'm not a glittery or feathery type of girl." Katniss nods in confirmation. Her eyes examine the corsage. It's a simple Katniss flower bundled up with twine and little purple flowers and fluffy green grasses. The florist looked at me oddly when I said 'think woodland' to inspire her. Thankfully she used her brain and made a corsage that was perfect for Katniss.

"It matches your dress." I say, tying the ribbon around her wrist, which has begun to become less skeletal looking by the day.

"It's perfect." Katniss says, pressing a kiss to my cheek as the lights of the square come into view at the bottom of the street.

In a matter of hours, the square has been transformed. Streamer and banners and lanterns are hung everywhere, bathing the area in a warm golden light. It's already busy, with people laughing and buying things from the stalls set up around the edge. The band is already playing jolly music, and I can see a couple of little kids spinning each other around by the stage. Even Effie Trinket is here, wobbling over the cobbled ground in her heels.

"So, where do you wanna start?" I ask Katniss.

"I have absolutely no idea." She grins, returning her hand to mine and squeezing it.

For the best part of an hour Katniss and I mill around the stalls, laughing and joking as we go along. Katniss doesn't buy a single thing, clutching the coins in her hand tightly. I buy us a cup each of a spiced buttery drink, that the vendor tells us she calls 'butter beer', but assures Katniss that there isn't any alcohol in it. We simultaneously widen our eyes as we take sips from our cups. Katniss lets out a gasp.

"Oh my God." She breathes, staring down at the cup as if it were made of solid gold.

"My sentiments exactly." I chuckle, taking another sip of the drink.

We reach the bakery and line up behind a couple of others, stamping our feet to try and remain warm. Dad is standing behind the counter, dishing out pastries for free. Mom glowers in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the free food being handed out.

"You two didn't have to wait in line, you know," Dad says with a warm smile when we reach the counter. "You're family."

"I didn't mind." Katniss smiles.

"I'm guessing Mom isn't happy about this?" I say, looking down at the seemingly endless trays of steaming iced pastries.

"Your mother is a bit of a grinch at Christmas, but she'll warm up eventually. Give her a bit of brandy and she'll be up here helping me." Dad says, placing a pastry into a napkin and handing it to Katniss, pretending that he didn't give her the biggest one. He does the same to me and pats me on the shoulder.

"I can hear you, Farrell!" Mom calls. I grin. A whisper of a smile flickers on Mom's face, but she hides it quickly. Katniss and I head outside, eating our pastries by the bonfire. I decide that Katniss looks radiant by the orange flames.

"You really do look lovely." I say. She wipes the icing from her lip and smiles.

"Not as pretty as the other girls." She says, looking across the square at Valerie and Marlene and Scarlet, who are wearing fitted dresses, straight from the tailor's worktable.

"You aren't pretty," I say, taking Katniss' empty napkin and throwing it into the fire with mine. She frowns at my words, confused. "You aren't beautiful."

"Where are you going with this, Peeta?" She asks, narrowing her eyes.

"You're as radiant as the sun." I smile, taking her hands and pulling her onto the dance floor, which is now packed with other district members.

"It's night-time." She reminds me with a cheeky smirk, looking up at the star-studded sky that seems endless above us. I spin her in a circle.

"You know what I mean," I laugh. "And you looked great by the fire."

"Thank you, Peeta. You cleaned up pretty good too." She says. I look down at my outfit, which consists entirely -except for my boots and underwear- of hand-me-downs from my brothers.

"I do try." I say.

Katniss proves to be a fantastic dancer, knowing all the steps to all of the songs that are played, whether they are fast-paced or slow and romantic. I realise that I haven't heard music like this ever before in my entire life, and when I take a look up at the stage, I see that the majority of the band members are from the Seam. They play the guitar, and a rounder guitar-like instrument Katniss tells me is a banjo, along with small hand-held drums and a harmonica and a brightly decorated accordion.

"Where do they get instruments like those from?" I ask.

"The Capitol _says_ they aren't supposed to have them, but they can't get rid of music, can they?" Katniss says wisely, her braid coming undone as she dances.

She rests her head on my chest when the lonely sound of a fiddle rings out over the square, and the song turns slow. We turn in a steady circle, just like the rest of the couples (except some of the people who have turned up stag with their friends and are spinning in circles). Everything seems so perfect, and I inhale Katniss' scent. She gives me a content smile.

But it's the jeering laughs from the other side of the square that shatter our quiet happiness.

I grit my teeth as their words fill my head.

_Seam slut._

_She only did it to get a nice house._

_Coal dust rat._

_She doesn't care, not really._

_Bitch._

_Bet his Mom is happy._

_Filthy whore._

"Katniss," I say softly. She looks up. "Do you wanna go?" I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the people pointing at her and drawing a crowd.

"They aren't going to spoil my fun. And I don't care what they think," She says. "Do you care?"

"Not about a couple of idiots." I say. Katniss smiles.

"Good. We can stay here then." She says. The tempo picks up again and Katniss tries to give me a crash-course in learning the basic steps.

"I swear, I'm trying!" I insist for the fifth time after stepping on her feet again.

"Your have two left feet, Peeta. You have no hope." She giggles, slightly breathless as she twirls away from me. I put my hands on my hips.

"Thanks for the encouragement." I say sarcastically. She shakes her head and laughs.

"Alright, you go get a drink and I'll go check on Prim," She says. "Let you catch your breath."

"I'm not unfit." I say indignantly. Katniss bats my arm and disappears into the crowd. I make my way over to stand in line for the punch. Katniss finds Prim by the ribbon stall with Rory, and I watch as her sister coos over the corsage.

I ladle some of the fragranced drink into disposable cups and turn to walk back to Katniss, and find that Prim and Rory have moved on. A group of blonde-haired kids from school are sneering at her, cornering her into the side of a stall that has closed for the night. I walk towards her, just in time to hear her remark.

"You're a bitch, Valerie." She snaps.

I have to admit, it isn't as good as she could've done, but when I watch her face carefully, I note the shimmering tears forming in the corners of her wide eyes. I come up behind the Merchants, they don't see me.

"He doesn't love you, _Katniss_." Marlene says, saying my fiancé's name as if it were the vilest thing in Panem.

"Anyone can see that." Scarlet adds.

"It's disgusting. You're pregnant too?!"

Self-conscious, and lightly horrified that people have figured it out, Katniss yanks her coat tighter around herself.

"He loves _me_," Valerie says. "So why don't you stop lying to yourself and get a grip."

"Peeta and Valerie are meant to be!"

"He's not meant to be with a slut like you!"

"No wonder he got drunk to fuck you," Marlene snarls, her lips sticky with red lipstick. "No-one would be able to do it sober!" The entire group erupts into cackles and I push through them, dropping the cups of punch, causing the red drink to splash all over Valerie and Marlene and Scarlet and the rest of the group, making them cry out in protest.

But I'm so angry. So angry that they could say that to Katniss and still get to sleep at night without feeling guilty. I stride forward, up to Katniss. She says my name; her eyes kitten grey and wide. She's upset, and angry at the same time.

And then, because I don't know what else to do, I cup Katniss' face in my hands and pull her in for a kiss. Valerie lets makes a sound of shock, stamping her foot on the ground furiously and throwing her drink on the ground before storming off.

"I'm sorry." I say, pulling away. Katniss opens her eyes very slowly.

"Stop talking, you idiot." She says, bringing my lips back down on to hers.

And all I can focus on is the feeling of her fingers twining through the hair than peeks out of my hat by my neck, the hand on my shoulder, her lips moving against mine. I take a change a swipe my tongue over her lip. Someone wolf-whistles from my right. She opens her mouth eagerly, and I swallow a groan, the feeling sending shockwaves through me. This is better than anything I ever could've imagined. Katniss smiles against my lips and I smile back, reluctantly pulling away and pressing my forehead to hers, our noses touching.

"Whoa." She pants.

"Sorry." I grin childishly.

"Stop saying sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I just kissed you in front of the entire district." I remind her.

"Which was very brave of you."

"Valerie _is_ a bitch." I chuckle. Katniss kisses me again.

"You're a good kisser." She admits, her cheeks turning pink.

"You're pretty good too." I congratulate her.

"You can kiss me any time you want." She says.

"Are you sure you aren't drunk?" I ask. Katniss pouts and pushes me lightly.

"Shut up and kiss me, Dough Boy."


	29. Chapter 29: Home Sweet Home

**Sorry for the wait for this chapter, I've been super busy lately and haven't found the usual inspiration to write until a day or two ago until I started to listen to 'Stubborn Love' by The Lumineers on repeat D: I really hope this chapter isn't a disappointment :) And, as usual, thank you for the overwhelming response to this story!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Five months ago, I would've laughed if you told me that I would not only be at the Winter Ball with Peeta, but kissing him in front of everyone too.

Part of me is burning with embarrassment, another is terrified because people know that I'm pregnant by Peeta, and another part -a dominant part, I think- is on fire, drunk on the feeling of Peeta's lips on mine, his large hands sliding down to grasp my waist, and his golden hair wound around my fingers.

"Get in there, Peet!" A familiar voice crows, and Peeta and I pull away from each other hastily. Rye walks past us, slapping his brother on the shoulder and smirking.

"Fuck off, Rye." Peeta says, but his threat is half-hearted.

"My birthday present was a good choice then?" His brother continues. I bite my lip and bring my palm up to my forehead, hiding my blush.

"You wanna go back to the bakery? Have something hot to drink?" Peeta asks me, his eyes shining bright, his lips curved into a boyish, but shy, smile.

"Yes. Please." I nod, and Peeta takes my hand and pulls me through the crowd.

I can feel people staring at me, and don't dare look up and face them. I stay focused on Peeta's shoes instead, and the feel of his calloused hand in mine. Strange. I would've assumed that bakers' hands would be soft and smooth.

"You alright?" Peeta asks with an amused grin. I look up. We've reached the bakery and I'm just staring at his hand and running my fingers over it.

"Yeah," I nod. "It's just that your hands aren't soft. They're all rough like mine."

"Working at the bakery is sometimes just as dangerous as hunting in the forest," Peeta chuckles. "You should see my arms. They're covered in burns."

"I have burns too- don't pretend like you're not the only one." I say. Peeta grins and pushes open the bakery door. We squeeze past a few people who are attempting to grab the last few free pastries and into the kitchen, where Mr Mellark is stoking the ovens and wiping down the countertops.

"You kids getting something to drink?" He asks, and I don't miss the way his blue eyes flicker quickly down to our joined hands.

"Yeah." Peeta nods.

"It's cold out there." I add.

"It certainly is. It'll probably gonna snow over night," Peeta's father nods, heading for the doorway. "I'll leave you kids alone." He winks before disappearing. Usually I would cringe at Mr Mellark winking at us in such a suggestive time, and I still do, but I can't tell myself that what Peeta and I have is completely innocent.

Peeta clatters around, grabbing two mugs and putting a dark powder into them. I go to the window by the backdoor and rub the steamed-up glass with my hand, peering out into the dark night. Snow is indeed falling, in light flurries, the fluffy flakes dancing in the wind.

"So, where is our house?" I ask, turning around. Peeta looks up from the oven.

"Just a few streets from the school. On the new section of the Merchant Quarter that was built a few years ago."

"Have you been there yet?"

"No, I haven't," Peeta shakes his head. "But I'm sure it'll be nice. How do to you feel about it?"

"I don't know," I confess, moving over to the table and perching on one of the stools, my back and feet aching from the dancing and extra weight of carrying a baby. I rub my stomach thoughtfully as I bring up answer, and Peeta follows my hands, staring with wide eyes and a ghost of a smile. "I guess I'm nervous and excited and scared as hell, all at the same time."

"Me too, Katniss. Me too," Peeta says, staring at the floor. He suddenly looks older than his time, and I notice the dark shadows beneath his eyes. I wonder if he's been out under more stress than he could handle with finding us a house. Immediately I feel bad. All I've done is complain and not do any work.

"At the end of all this, when the baby is here and everyone has settled a little more, do you think you'll regret anything?" I ask carefully. Peeta scrubs his hands over his face and exhales slowly before answering.

"Now, that is a question." He says.

"You don't have to answer."

"Yes I do. Obliviously, I'd like to say that in two years time I will guilt-free and have no regrets about anything, but saying that would be a lie." He brings over two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, a delicacy I've my ever had once before.

"What do you regret?" I ask softly.

"I regret doing this to you. I regret destroying your life." Peeta tells me, his answer pained, as if it causes him physical agony to say it.

"You haven't destroyed my life-"

"I have! You can't marry who you want now! You can't have children with whoever you love, and you can't lead your own life."

"I'm not with Gale." I state. Peeta blinks.

"What?"

"Contrary to popular belief, Gale and I are nothing but friends." I say airily, wrapping my frozen digits around the warm cup. Peeta is silent, and his face is pale.

"So you... And him. You never did anything?" He asks.

My cheeks burn at simply the thought of Gale and I doing anything like that. Sure, many people assumed that we were going to get married, and I always thought that that would be the end game, but children were never an option, especially considering that we both had siblings to look after. "Of course not. He's like a brother to me."

"So you were a virgin? That night? At the party?" Peeta asks, his voice cracking. I nod, confused at his reaction. "Katniss, I didn't know." He whispers, suddenly looking terrified. My heart breaks a little more.

"Hey, it's okay." I say, placing my hand on his.

"No, it isn't."

"For fucks sake, Peeta," I say. "I'm not some innocent china doll that needs to be cushioned. My virginity has never been something I wanted to keep dear to me."

"So you had sex one time and got pregnant?"

"Yep," I nod and squeeze his fingers. "I have really good luck," Peeta let's out a shuddering breathe. I offer him a smile, trying to lighten the conversation. "At least you're the father, and not some other kid who wouldn't give a shit."

"I really am sorry, Katniss."

"We can't exactly back out of this now, can we?"

"Another thing to add to my 'things I feel guilty about' list."

"Stop being depressing," I say. Peeta gives me a sad look. "But you didn't answer my question."

"I thought you said that I didn't have to answer."

"I changed my mind."

Peeta is quiet for a long a long moment, staring over my shoulder, his eyes clouded and distant.

"Regret and guilt will always be on my mind, I think, but I would like to assume that everything will be okay in the end," he says finally. "When the baby comes, I want everything to be better- not as unstable as it is now."

"We'll be okay," I say, partly to try and convince myself that the future will be bright. "Things might be difficult at the moment, but hey. Every grey cloud has a silver lining!"

"My Dad used to say that." Peeta laughs. I raise and eyebrow and take a sip of my drink.

"This is amazing." I say, inhaling the rich scent.

"It's from the Capitol so it better be. Cost a fortune to ship over here."

"So why did you?"

"Valerie wanted a specific type of chocolate on her birthday cake." Peeta rolls his eyes.

"What's wrong with normal chocolate?" I ask.

"Nothing! That's my point!" Peet says.

He reaches over to the bread bin sitting on the table, and pulls out a bread roll. I bite my lip, watching the muscles in his arms move beneath his skin. Wrestling, combined with work at the bakery has certainly paid off. I shift in my seat and look away, well aware of how flushed my face has become.

"What are you doing?" I ask, watching in confusion as Peeta dips a piece of the bread into the hot chocolate. He stares at me.

"What?"

"Why are you dipping bread into hot chocolate?" I ask, my eyes wide. Peeta grins.

"Jesus, you were looking at me like I had grown another head!" He chuckles. "Try it. It's nicer than it looks." He insists, handing me half the bread roll. I hesitantly tear a piece of and dip it into the cup. Peeta nods, encouraging me, and I put it in my mouth, fully expecting an odd combination of flavours that only Peeta enjoys.

"All right, this is better than I thought it would be." I say after swallowing. The bread is slightly stale, but I don't mind. It's much better than anything I've usual eaten.

"So you like it?"

"It isn't as good as lamb stew. Or cheese buns. But it's good." I tell him. He nods in approval.

After we finish eating, and the mugs of hot chocolate are empty, Peeta places a heavy loaf of nut and fruit bread and some cookies and bread rolls into a large paper bag, ignoring my protests that we don't need any food, that we're just fine.

"It's cold, it's winter, and you of all people need extra food."

"I'm fine as I am, Peeta." I say, almost jogging to keep up with his fast pace as we walk towards the unlit streets of the Seam. Mr Mellark was right, is has just begun to stop now heavily, and the flakes settle on Peeta's broad shoulders as he walks.

"For Prim and your mother then. You're moving out tomorrow, so think of this as an apology for taking you from them."

"Why are you so good to my family?" I sigh.

"Because they're my family too, now. Just like mine are yours." Peeta replies. I smile and grab his wrist with my hand so he can essentially drag me along after him.

"You going to enjoy your last night at home?" I question.

"I'll try, but sometimes they can be a nightmare to live with." Peeta laughs, remembering some memory from the past.

"I'm going to miss Prim and my Mom. Prim and I share a bed, and it'll be weird not having her there at night."

"Katniss, why do you have it stuck in your head that you aren't going to be able to see your family? We'll be just across town, not changing districts."

"I know, I know. It's just weird. I thought I'd live in the Seam- possibly in that house- forever. Moving with someone else is just... Well... A difficult concept for me to grasp." I admit softly, waving to an elderly Seam couple who are walking back home from the Winter Ball. The magical lights and stalls and music seem like a lifetime ago.

"Prim will be able to visit whenever she likes. Don't worry."

"I won't. Prim and Mom have signed themselves up to help us move in."

"Dad forced Fen and Rye to," Peeta adds. "And Madge said she would be able to help. Which means that Mitch will be there."

"We've got an army of people to help us."

"I know, it's bizarre."

"Oh!" I say, suddenly remembering what Sae told me. "Greasy Sae said that we could have her old crib."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's sendin' her son over to give it to us tomorrow."

"That's one thing we can cross off our list of stuff to get or get done." Peeta says. I roll my eyes.

"You know, if we're lucky we'll be able to have a kitchen table and chairs." I joke as we reach my house.

"Let's hope." Peeta agrees, handing me the bag of food. I take it and grasp it in one arm.

"I had a really nice time tonight, Peeta," I say. "Thanks for inviting me, and for this corsage. And for everything."

"You're welcome." He shrugs.

"You've got coal dust in your hair," I say, stepping forward and running my hand through his curls. "Damned stuff gets everywhere," Peeta smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine." Peeta smiles.

My heart skips a beat when Peeta leans forward, and I eagerly stretch upwards on my toes to press his lips to mine. He makes a soft noise when I timidly run my tongue over his bottom lip, but I swallow it, smiling into the kiss.

"I don't think this is something that friends do." I whisper against his lips.

"We aren't friends."

"What are we then?" I ask.

Peeta presses his lips to mine again before answering. "Are we boy friend and girlfriend?"

"I guess you could say that." I giggle.

"Despite that we're getting married in the New Year, for God's sake, would you like to be my girlfriend?" Peeta asks, his eyes bright.

"I'd be honoured." I say, trying to (and failing) to fight the grin that appears on my face, before kissing him again.

After my father's death, I built up impenetrable walls around my heart and mind, a defence system the Capitol would be in awe of. I let nothing in, and kept myself as an emotion-free member of society. My head was reserved in a permanent state of survival. My heart was inaccessible- or so I thought.

Perfectly timed, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Peeta Mellark comes along, and within the space of a few months he has pushed aside those protective shields as if they were made of cardboard and wreaked havoc with my heart and mind.

And if he could charm me, he could do anything.

"Oh shit!" I exclaim, pushing Peeta away.

"What?" He asks, his eyes wide as he grips my arms, panting slightly, his cheeks flushed from the kiss. I'm sure I look exactly the same.

"I forgot Prim!" I cry, my hands going up to my hair. "She was dancing with Rory and I just disappeared with you and she was all alone and I have I go get her and-"

"Katniss." Peeta says.

"I can't believe it! If I can't look after Prim for ten seconds, what am I going to do with a baby?"

"Katniss listen for a second-"

"For fucks sake lets go and get her. Hazelle will kill me for loosing Rory!"

"Katniss! Prim is right there!" Peeta exclaims.

"WHAT?" I ask. Peeta grabs my shoulders and spins me around, and sure enough, sitting at the kitchen table with my Mom is Prim, eating a bowl of something.

"Thank God," I breathe, my shoulders slumping. "I almost had a-"

"A heart attack?" Peeta offers, grinning at me. He thinks this is funny.

"Shut up and go home." I scowl. Peeta laughs, not even trying to hide it.

"I'll see you in the morning." He says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead and walk backwards away from me.

"Wipe that smirk off your face!" I call indignantly after him. "I was really worried."

"I could tell." Peeta winks, before turning on his heel and walking away. I grit my teeth and head inside, my cheeks tingling at the sudden change in temperature.

"Prim! I'm so sorry I disappeared, I went to the bakery with Peeta and forgot completely that you were there with Rory and I'm so sorry for leaving you." I say, dumping the paper bag on the table and behind down to hug my little sister, who makes an 'oof' sound and drops her spoon.

"Katniss, it's fine. Rory walked me home. And Greasy Sae was walking a little way behind us," Prim shakes her head. "Don't worry."

"Did you both have a good time?" Mom asks, standing up and dishing up some broth from the pot over the fire.

"It was great! Rory bought me a set of ribbons!" Prim gushes, pulling a small package from her pocket.

"Katniss?" Mom prompts, handing me the bowl. I sit down and take a sip of the broth, trying not to think of the heated kiss Peeta and I shared in the square, and right in my doorstep not two minutes ago.

"I had fun," I nod. "But everyone knows about Peeta and I now."

"They do?"

"Yeah."

"How did they find out?" Prim asks.

"They guessed." I shrug.

"And are you okay with that?"

"I'll be fine." I smile. Mom squeezes my shoulder consolingly. Prim grins. I let out a breath, thinking about what tomorrow is going to bring.

Later that night, as Prim and I lay huddled beneath the blankets, trying to keep warm, my sister turns to me.

"I thought you had fallen asleep." I say, tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear.

"I've just been thinking about how I'll miss you." Prim whispers. I pull her towards me, holding her tight and resting my chin on her head.

"I'll miss you too, Little Duck. But you can come visit Peeta and I whenever you want."

"Are you excited?" Prim asks, her voice small.

"I suppose so. Right now I just want to get some sleep."

"Peeta tire you out?" She continues. I tilt my head to end side and push her away slightly, only to see a mischievous smirk on her lips. "I saw you two kissing in the square in front of everyone, and on the porch."

"Prim!" I hiss. She shrugs.

"I think it's cute." She says. I'm mortified.

"Don't you tell Mom." I tell her.

"Girls, I am just four feet away. I can hear you." Mom says from the darkness. Prim snorts with laughter and I groan, hiding my face under my pillow.

"He'll be a good husband. And I'm gaining a brother out of this..."

"Three, actually." I remind her. Prim sighs and rolls not her back.

"Tomorrow is gonna be interesting."

"Interesting is an understatement."

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Saturday morning dawns bright and crisp and cold. Overnight it did snow, but only a couple of centimetres, nothing compared to the deep, house-height drifts that we're used to dealing with. The snow has come late this year. Normally we'd be wading through the white stuff, knee-deep and freezing, and that sometimes happened n November. And now it's nearing Christmas Day, and we've only just had our first snow fall.

Last night, after I got home from dropping Katniss back at her house, Dad, My brothers and even Mom stayed in the living room. We watched TV because there was a national news update on bad weather that as sweeping over Panem, and how the fishing levels in District 4 had dropped dramatically.

Mom didn't speak to me willingly throughout the evening, deciding to remain facing the television, watching some silly Capitol soap opera starring a guy from Four who could only be described as an Adonis, with perfect skin and hair and teeth. All the girls in the program cooed and blushed whenever he did anything as simple as breath. I wondered who the bronze man was, and whether he actually enjoyed being in such garbage like this.

Fen and Rye pulled out a battered dartboard and we had a heated competition, full of cursing and threats, until it was past midnight. Mom had long since retired to bed, and that just left me to pack up my stuff. Dad came in at one point, and patted me on the shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, son." He had said.

"Thanks, Dad." I had replied.

"You enjoy your last night under this roof, okay?" He advised me. "'Cus it's going to be hell when that baby gets here. You'll go without sleep for longer amounts of time than you thought possible."

"The baby isn't due until April, Dad. I've got plenty of time." I say. Dad chuckles, rubbing his hand over his jaw.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. But the next few months will go by just like that," He clicks his fingers. "And before you know it, you'll be a father."

I sit back, leaning against the wall. "A sixteen year old father." I say.

"Who would've guessed, hey?"

"Not me, that's for sure."

"I didn't think I was gonna be a grandfather in my forties."

"Yeah... Sorry 'bout that," I say. "But what do you want to be called? Grandfather Mellark? Grandad? Grandpa? Pa?"

"Oh, I'm yet to decide. I'll let you know as soon as possible though." Dad chuckles.

"Good."

"Word has gotten around, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. I kinda... Kissed Katniss in front of everyone." I say bashfully.

"Delly said that she kissed you back," I shrug. "So it's going we'll, between you and Katniss?"

"Yeah. Things are good."

"Is she ready to move into a new house with you?"

"No."

"Are you?"

"Definitely not."

"Thanks for giving me so much reassurance, son." Dad says. I look and grin.

"You're welcome."

"Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Sure thing." I say, looking across my room and the piles of stuff that I'm moving. I've had this bedroom all my life. Mom is turning it into her own private office when I'm gone, she made that clear. All my furniture is going to be in Katniss and mine's house. It's going to be really weird.

And now, as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and run a razor over my chin, I can't say that I feel any less nervous about today as I did last night.

It's half nine, and I've just helped Dad with the eight a.m. morning rush of miners. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day are when the mines are closed; so we don't have to worry abut baking for the early morning workers over those three days. After helping with that, and shaking several hands of people I probably hadn't spoken to before when they congratulated me on snagging 'Lowell's girl', I went up to my room to pack away the few books I have, my clothes and my other stuff, leaving the wardrobe and desk empty so they are easier to carry. It's going to be icy, and I don't want any accidents while we carry furniture across town. We would usually use a horse and cart to transport heavy items, but their wasn't anyone who was willing to let us borrow their horse.

So instead of a cart, we'll be carrying our stuff around the district, trying not to slip over.

This should be fun.

I walk to the Everdeen house at about eleven o'clock to pick up Katniss. We've decided to go to our new house first, and then go back to the bakery to direct everyone to the correct building. My breath pushes steam through the air as I walk, and I can feel my ears going numb. Prim answers the door the second my knuckles make contact with the door and invites me inside.

"Katniss is just getting ready. She overslept." She explains, bouncing on her heels. I notice that she has gap in between her two front teeth, just like Katniss. Prim, however, doesn't have the small dusting of freckles over her nose that I adore so much.

"Does she normally get up early?" I ask, rubbing my hands together.

"Yeah," Prim nods her head. "To go hunting. But last night she couldn't get to sleep because the baby kept moving and this morning she was out cold until about an hour ago."

"An hour?" I ask. "Is that not enough time to wake up?"

"Apparently not…" Prim giggles. "She moped around for the best part of it, moaning about her feet aching."

"I did not!" Katniss says indignantly as she enters the room. "Hey, Peeta."

"Hey." I reply.

"Are you ready to go?" Katniss asks.

"Yep," I nod, before turning to Prim. "What about you?"

"Prim and Mom are going to join us when Greasy Sae's son drops off the crib." Katniss explains before her sister can speak. She wraps the same blue scarf she wore last night around her neck and picks up a large box that's sitting on the kitchen table.

"Let me carry that." I say.

"I'm fine."

"Katniss… come on. If your feet are hurting I don't want-" I say.

"Peeta, it's okay. It isn't even heavy." Katniss insists.

"Katniss, when a gentlemen offers to do something for you, you stop being stubborn and let him." Mrs Everdeen scolds softly from her position by the kitchen sink. I forgot she was even there, she's so quiet.

"Mom." Katniss scowls.

"I don't mind." I say, a smile on my lips. Prim grins. Katniss sighs and pushes the box towards me. I take it from her.

"We'll see you in a little while." Katniss' mother says.

"Thank you, Mrs Everdeen." I say, pushing the front door open. Katniss steps outside.

"Call me Dahlia, please."

"Thank you, Dahlia." I repeat. Mrs Everdeen smiles softly and returns to washing a pot.

"Give me the box." Katniss demands as soon as we are out of sight of her house.

"Katniss, I'm gonna carry it whether you like it or not." I say.

"Stop being stubborn."

"I'm not the stubborn one."

"Shut up." Katniss says, but her eyes are teasing. I bump my shoulder against hers.

"Do you want me to carry you too? Y'know, since your feet are hurting." I question.

"My feet don't hurt."

"So Prim was lying?" Katniss shoots me a look.

"Okay, yeah. My feet do hurt. But I've had worse." She says, her hands deep in the pockets of her coat. I can see the hood of my wrestling jacket sticking out of the top. She pulls it over her head, and yanks her braid out so it's over her shoulder.

"I thought little girls only wore ribbons." I say, pulling on the green ribbon tied at the bottom of her braid where there would normally be a tie.

"I'm only sixteen," Katniss says. I pull a face. She shoves my arm. "Prim insisted that I wear it. She doesn't like green."

"And you actually wore it?" I ask.

"Yes, Peeta. I actually did," Katniss says, stopping and standing still. "We can go back now and get you a ribbon too if you want. We still have time." She grins widely.

"I'm more suited to blue." I tell her.

"You'd look good with some ribbons in your hair." Katniss says, threading her fingers through my hair. I shiver at her touch, the feeling of her fingers winding through my curls sending a tingling feeling down my spine.

We reach the bakery pretty quickly, the thought of warmth by the ovens making us move faster. Dad is mopping the floor when we enter the room, and we tread carefully into the room. I put the box on the table and Dad goes to get Rye and Fen, who have been hiding in their bedrooms all morning in hope that they wont have to help. It takes about ten minutes for my brothers to climb grumpily down the stairs.

"Jesus, you'd think we were sending them to war." Katniss mutters.

"This is war." Rye grimaces.

"And child labour," Fen adds. "We should be getting paid for this."

"You're twenty, Fen," I say. "You're an adult."

"Help your brother, boys. Don't be lazy." Dad admonishes, zipping up his coat.

It takes another painfully cold fifteen minutes to reach the road that our house is on, and five minutes of wiggling the key in the keyhole of the front door before the lock clicks into place and the doors swings open. Katniss lets out a little cheer and steps inside.

The front of the house is plain, like all the other houses in the Merchant Quarters, like a blank canvas. It's small, with two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and a kitchen, living room and pantry downstairs. It's stark and empty, and bitterly cold. Sitting in the fire are a few logs, and Katniss bends down and starts a fire, warming her hands. Katniss heads upstairs to investigate and I follow close behind. We stand in the corridor and find that the bathroom is missing a door.

"We'll have to get that spare door in the basement." I say.

"You have a spare door?" Katniss asks.

"We probably have the contents of an entire house in our basement. It's a jungle in there." I reply. Katniss shakes her head and continues into the other rooms.

"This can be the baby's room," She says, stepping side and pulling at the thin lace curtains that are draped over the window. "But we're washing these curtains." She says, her nose turned up as she holds up the stained material.

"I see you've given us the biggest room." I say. Katniss blushes.

"Obviously."

My father and brothers are gone by the time we get back downstairs, so we head back to the bakery. Mrs Everdeen and Prim can be seen walking down the hill, and Katniss goes off to help them pull a small and very wobbly end-of-it's-life cart which has been laden with pieces of wood that I assume will end up as a crib. I go through the backdoor of the bakery and find Dad instructing Rye on the best way to carry my wardrobe down the stairs. With a lot of perseverance, we fit it though the doorway and begin the descent down the stairs.

"For fucks sake," Rye hisses when he gets squished up against the wall in the stairwell. "This isn't what I imagined I would be doing on a Saturday. Helping my baby brother move house. Never again!"

"Stop muttering Rye and move to the left." Dad says from somewhere behind us. I can practically hear my brother rolling his eyes.

Fen holds open the back door and we begin to carry the wardrobe down the street, Fen and Dad on one end, Rye and I on the other. Katniss and Prim follow close behind, pulling the cart, and Mrs Everdeen carries a suitcase of my painting equipment. I can only wonder what people are thinking as we stagger past with a wardrobe and a carriage full of wooden poles.

And this is how we spend the next three hours, stumbling around with pieces of my bedroom. Rye swears colourfully, and Katniss covers Prim's ears as she insults my brother. My father and Katniss' mother chat quietly together for most of the afternoon, laughing and clearly talking about Katniss and me.

"You know they dated when they were younger?" I say to Katniss from behind a stack of three chairs.

"_Really_?" She asks, craning her neck back to look at the subject of our conversation.

"Yup. But your Mom married your Dad because he had a beautiful voice.

"I didn't know." Katniss says, her eyes wide.

"I guess it's kinda weird, their children getting married."

"And fucking!" Fen reminds helpfully. Katniss juggles the box she's carrying into one arm and punches my eldest brother's arm, hard.

"Shut _up_, Fen!" She cries. Prim giggles.

"Just think, you've got to live with him as your brother for the rest of your life." I say. Katniss' eyes widen and she locks her jaw, trying to hold back an insult.

"And I thought Rye was bad enough." Katniss grumbles. I nudge her arm and gesture towards Rye, who's walking a little way ahead with Prim on his shoulders.

"He isn't that bad." I say. Katniss shakes her head and laughs.

Dad and Fen head off to help at the bakery at about half two, and Rye buggers off to hang out with his friends. Mrs Everdeen is called to a surprise birth, and Prim eagerly goes with her, leaving Katniss and myself to carry an endless load of boxes and a _door _to carry. We're half dragging, half carrying the door down the street when Gale appears.

"You want some help?" He asks, completely ignoring me.

"Why are you here?" Katniss asks. I assume from her tone of voice that she still hasn't forgiven him.

"Word spreads like wildfire, Catnip."

"Wildfire spreads pretty fast, Gale. Why weren't you here sooner to help?"

"Your brother-in-law didn't look to welcoming." I hear Hawthorne say.

"We're just fine, thank you very much." I speak up.

"Oh, so now he speaks for you?"

"_He_ has a name, Gale!" Katniss snaps, dropping her end of the door. I stagger and have to jump back so it doesn't fall on my foot. "Sorry, Peeta." My fiancé says.

"S'okay." I shrug.

"Peeta doesn't speak for me, but I'm sure that he wants you to piss off just as much as I do. I still haven't forgiven you for being such an asshole." An amused snort escapes my lips and I attempt to hide it with a cough. Hawthorne seems to find his friend's insult funny as well, and just shifts his weight with a smirk.

"I want to apologise." Gale says solemnly.

"It isn't me who wants an apology." Katniss scowls. I raise my eyebrows. An apology isn't something I'd normally be bothered about, but watching Hawthorne saying sorry to _me _is definitely something I want to see. Gale turns, and with great effort says:

"Look, man. I was angry… I still am, but I'm sorry." He holds out his hand for me to shake.

"No harm done." I say, even though there actually _was_. Taking his hand, I shake it once. He narrows his eyes, and suddenly the handshake is very tense.

"Catnip, can you meet me? Tomorrow? I want to talk to you." Gale says, letting go of my hand.

"Fine," Katniss says. Gale smiles and walks away. Katniss picks up her end of the door. "What is it with guys and making handshakes like some contest of who is more masculine? I mean, really. I could almost _feel_ the testosterone." I chuckle and we continue walking. Once we're inside the house, we carry the door upstairs and lean it against the wall.

"Do you have some screws?" Katniss asks, turning around to face me.

"Yeah." I nod, smiling down at her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Am I not allowed to look at you?"

"Not like that."

"Close your eyes then," I say. Katniss reluctantly does, and then opens one eye to keep watch. "You can trust me." I whisper. She closes her eye again.

"What are you doing?" She asks. I say nothing, but step forward. "Peeta?" I gently press my lips to hers, like I've been wanting to all day, and she stumbles backwards against the wall. The kiss is slow and sweet. I pull away. Katniss twines her fingers with mine and smiles.

"What was that for?" She asks.

"Welcome home, Katniss." I murmur. Her cheeks flush and she kisses me again.

"It's home, Peeta. It is now."


	30. Chapter 30: Sweet Dreams

**Holy hell we've reached chapter 30 :3 As always, thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites on my story! You guys are amazing! I'm glad that so many of you found the ending for the last chapter so sweet, I had a lot of fun writing it! Onwards...**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Peeta and I spend the rest of the afternoon moving furniture. My fiancé, ever concerned that me lifting as much as a _chair_ will hurt me or the baby, tries to move everything by himself, resulting in plenty of fingers and toes getting squished, and a glittering rainbow of colourful language filling the house.

"Peeta!" I shout up the stairs after there's a loud crash followed by a string of cursing. "What the fuck is going on?" When I receive no answer, I climb the staircase and find a wardrobe wedged in the doorway of what is going to our bedroom.

A shiver shoots down my spine at the thought of us two sharing a bed together. I wonder if it'll be awkward lying beside him, especially since it's his bed that's been moved here, and we all know what happened the last time Peeta and I shared a bed.

At least I can't get pregnant...

"Are you behind the wardrobe?" I ask, stifling a laugh.

"Yes." Peeta's voice drifts towards me. He sounds annoyed.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I can't get it through by myself. I should've moved this when my Dad and brothers were- Hey! Are... are you laughing at me?" I can almost hear Peeta placing his hands in his hips.

"No!" I exclaim, attempting to keep my face indifferent, even though he can't actually see me. "I would never laugh at you."

"This isn't funny, I've really messed up my foot."

"It's your fault for dropping it on it."

"It wasn't on purpose!"

"It is when you refuse to let me help."

"Katniss..." Peeta sighs. "I don't want you or the baby getting hurt because you're moving heavy stuff."

"Jesus, Peeta. It's just a wardrobe."

"Can you please go and get Fen or Dad to help?"

"I can do it!" I insist.

"I'm not doubting you, but just go get someone." Peeta pleads.

"Look, who's got the advantage in this situation? Me, or you?" I ask. Peeta groans. "Because I'd like to see you trying to scale the gutter to get out of there."

"Katniss..."

"Peeta..." I say, mimicking his whining tone. "I've fought wild dogs and carried deer for miles, Peeta. An wardrobe that is empty isn't exactly gonna bear any threat to me."

"You didn't fight dogs or carry deer when you were pregnant, though. Did you?"

"You're the one who knocked me up in the first place," I say. Peeta snorts, but doesn't say anything. I sigh and lean my head against the side of the cupboard, the wood panel cool against my skin. "Let me try to lift it, Peeta. And if I can't, I'll go get some help."

"Fine."

"Don't throw a tantrum." I roll my eyes and grab the edges of the wardrobe.

"Don't strain yourself." Peeta calls.

"I won't." I say. I know he means well, but he's going to suffocate me if he keeps trying to cushion every blow.

"Just try and push it through the doorway. I should fit. I've got it this far." Peeta says. I push on the cupboard and it groans.

"Is this thing safe?" I ask.

"Probably."

"Good enough." I shrug, continuing to heave the pieces of furniture forward.

"Whoa, wait a second!" Peeta says, and hear the sound of something being moved out of the way. "Alright, carry on."

After a few minutes of giving each other instructions and pushing and wiggling the piece of furniture though the doorway (which seems to get smaller every time we try to move the wardrobe), we manage to push the heavy item up against the wall.

"I'm never moving that again." I grumble, rubbing the small of my back. Okay, maybe that wasn't a good idea. If my back hurts now, how is it going to be in a few months time? I grimace at the thought, and image of me waddling around as if I have a melon stuck under my shirt.

"I told you to get my Dad and now look what's happened." Peeta says softly. I roll my eyes.

"I know you did…"

"What hurts?"

"Nothing hurts. I'm okay Peeta don't worry." I say, making my way back towards the stairs to continue arranging the kitchen.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He continues, grasping my wrist and pulling me back slightly.

I'm about to roll my eyes yet again and go off on a tangent about how I don't need looking after, but the expression on Peeta's face stops me. His eyes are bright blue, gazing intently at me with a look of concern. He's tired, with pale shadows under his eyes.

Immediately I soften, and step forward to gently rub the shadows with the pad of my thumb.

"Why are you looking so tired?" I ask, my brow wrinkling with concern.

"I'm not tired." Peeta says quietly.

"So why do you _look_ tired?" I question. "You need to get some sleep."

"I've just been worried."

"I know, trust me." I nod my head. Peeta grins a lopsided grin.

"How many things do we need to sort out?" he asks.

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Nope." Peeta laughs.

"I'll start something for dinner," I say. "You wanna have some stew?" I tap my fingers against the doorframe, and the white paint covering the wood flakes away under my touch.

"Shit. I don't think this is a new house at all." Peeta says. I turn and grin.

"Nothing's new in District 12."

"Very true."

"Stew? Yay or nay?" I ask.

"Yay, please," Peeta nods. "I'll just finish rearranging this lot and then I'll come and help you." I give him a thumbs up in response and move out of the room, down the _creaky _(this defiantly isn't a new house) staircase and into the kitchen. As I set about dicing some rabbit into uneven chunks, I listen to the sounds of the house. _Or lack of._

I'm used to hearing Prim chatting with Mom or Buttercup or Lady, the sound of the machinery that's hundreds of feet below me churning away at the rock, or the sound of Mom humming softly to herself. Prim giggling, Mom scolding and the sound of trees rustling.

_Seam _sounds. I miss them already.

The Merchant Quarters are quiet, even though it's early in the evening, the sun just beginning to set, bathing the district in oranges and golds and dusky pinks. The shops are beginning to close up for the day. My mind flicks to the bakery. Should Peeta be working there, instead of her? Surely his family needs the help. I can imagine Fen and Rye grumbling as they do whatever Peeta would normally do to help close the shop. The icy cobbled streets are deserted except for the occasional person wrapped up warm against the wind, or a scrawny stray dog.

I wonder how Mom and Prim are getting on. Are they warm? Are they eating? Do they miss me? I miss them, that's for sure. And it's only my first night of living with my fiancé. In the morning I'll have to go hunting and get more meat. I'll split it between my old family and my new one. _Wait. What?_

_My new family? _

I shake my head, trying to deny the idea. Despite the fact that Peeta and I sorta have to be a family now, but it just doesn't feel right. This house feels too empty. The emotion doesn't feel like family love. It feels odd.

I can only hope that, over time, I will be able to feel like Peeta Mellark's wife, and not just the girl he knocked up. My feelings for him have changed, but I can't feel anything like love for him. Love is still one of the things that has me stumped. All the kisses we have shared are ever-present in my mind, and I try to think rationally. Friends don't kiss. Especially like that. Peeta is usually the one to initiate the kisses, like the one at the Winter Ball and the one in the bathroom. I've only started one or two kisses- from the fear of being rejected, I don't know- but I'm going to refuse the notion of us becoming anything more.

But Peeta is so good and pure, inside and out, I can't help but be happy around him. He radiates happiness, like a personal sunshine. I light the burner with a match and set a pot down and add the rabbit, before setting about cutting up some potatoes. I stiffen, listening for the sound of Peeta moving around upstairs, and silence greets me. I frown.

"Peeta?" I call, stilling my movements and listening intently.

"Yeah?" His breath is hot against the shell or my ear and I jump, spinning around to face him. He's grinning like an idiot.

"How did you sneak up on me like that?" I ask, my eyes wide.

"You were in deep thought." Peeta shrugs. I sigh and place a hand on my chest.

"You scared me."

"You nearly sliced me open with that knife." Peeta retorts, his eyes flickering down to the knife I have in my hand.

"Oh, sorry." I mumble, moving the offending item away from him. He moves to stand beside me, and starts to slice up carrots. The sound of the knives hitting the countertop is soothing and I find myself humming softly as we work, moving around the kitchen in companionable silence.

Streaming through the window, the dying sunlight lights up Peeta from the left, casting shadows over his features. I sneak glances up to him and notice how long his eyelashes are. Usually invisible, I'm intrigued as to why they don't get tangled up every time he blinks. His nose has a slight bump in the middle, and his lips are perfectly pink, perfectly soft. I wonder how he can stand to press his lips to my chapped ones and not turn away in disgust.

"You suit the sunset," Peeta muses. I blink, brought out of my thoughts to find him gazing at me. "I thought you looked beautiful by the bonfire, but I like the sunset on you too. It makes you freckles stand out."

"Ugh," I wrinkle my nose, rubbing my hand over my cheeks. "I hate my freckles. They're babyish."

"They're cute."

"Kittens are cute."

"You're Katniss the kitten, then." Peeta laughs. I raise an eyebrow. We fall into silence again, and I feel a strange warmth fizzling through my chest, right to the tips of my fingers and toes. Suddenly I feel something poking at my arm, and turn to see Peeta nudging me with his elbow.

"What?"

"Meow." Peeta says, trying his best to keep a straight face, but his lips are twitching, turning into a smirk.

"Fuck you." I say, narrowing my eyes. Peeta chuckles and meows again, bumping his hip against mine.

"Come on, Katniss. _Meow_."

"No…"

"Meow."

"Peeta this is silly."

"Meow."

"Peeta!"

"Meow!"

"Meow!" I cry, giving in. Peeta exhales, laughing softly as he begins to slice some bread. "Don't you dare start calling me Kat." I warn.

"Kat?" Peeta asks, testing it out. I groan, bringing my palm up to my forehead.

"Peet?" I say sarcastically.

"Peet and Kat. I like it." Peeta concludes.

"Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, but it sounds better as Kat and Peet." I remind him.

"It's Mr and Mrs, though. Not Mrs and Mr. That sounds weird."

"It's weird standing here and _meowing_ at each other!"

"Touché." Peeta shakes his head.

"I'm going to be Katniss Mellark." I breathe, the name foreign on my tongue. "Not Katniss Everdeen, Katniss _Mellark._"

Peeta puts his knife down and turns to me. "You don't have to change it. You can keep it as Everdeen if you want. Or go all fancy and change it to Katniss Everdeen-Mellark," He says. "No-one can force you to change it."

"Don't worry," I say, giving him a smile. "I'm not upset. It's just a weird thought."

"I suppose you always thought you'd be Katniss Hawthorne. No wonder he's pissed." Peeta comments absentmindedly. I freeze and lock my jaw.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, my words harsher than I intended.

"No, no…" Peeta backtracks. "I just- everyone thought… well, _assumed,_ actually…that you would marry Gale. Most thought you weren't just hunting in the woods."

"We've never been anything but friends." I state. I don't know why, but Peeta's unintentional assertion has rubbed me the wrong way.

"He doesn't think that…" Peeta says under his breath. I don't think I was intended to hear it.

"What do you mean, he doesn't think that?" I ask.

"Gale _likes_ you Katniss." Peeta says shakily, not meeting my gaze. Something flickers in his eyes, but it's too swift for me to decipher.

"I know, he's my best friend." I reply.

"You should really talk to him, Kat," Peeta says. "I've already said too much."

"No, you tell me what it is." I demand.

"Ask him yourself."

"Don't be a jerk." I snap, officially turning the conversation sour.

"I'm not being a jerk," Peeta sighs heavily. "But Gale is the one who should tell you, not me. Particularly since in don't think _he _knows that _I _know."

"For fuck sake, Peeta. Just tell me!"

"No!"

"Why not!"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Peeta asks. "It isn't my place to tell."

"Tell me what?" I exclaim loudly, slamming the cupboard door and turning to Peeta, my eyes blazing. _Great, our first argument, and we've just moved in with each other. Fantastic start as always. _

"That he's in love with you!" Peeta yells, loosing his temper. _"Fuck." _He adds.

"W-what?" I ask.

"You know what, this is nothing to do with me." Peeta says, abandoning the countertop and making for the door. I pick up my knife and fling it towards him- a stupidly unnecessary action, I know- stopping him in his tracks, staring at the sharp blade that is wedged into the wall.

"This has everything to with you, since _you _knew that _my best friend_ is apparently in love with me!" I say, marching forward and yanking the knife from the wall.

"Bloody hell." Peeta whispers.

"Peeta!"

"What?"

"Gale is not in love with me." I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Don't tell me that you never noticed the way that he looks at you? When he tugs on your braid? When he holds your waist to move you out of the way?" Peeta asks, his blue eyes glimmering, his chest rising and falling dramatically.

I bite my bottom lip, drawing it in between my teeth as I think. "They don't mean anything. It's just a habit of his." I shrug, acting nonchalant, even though inside I'm over thinking Peeta's words.

Have I really been too naive, all this time? Were the touches from Gale that I considered friendly actually meant in a different way entirely? I squeeze my eyes shut. No. Surely I would've guessed if Gale had feelings for me by now, and he would've made a move to display his apparent affection.

Yet again, the irritating voice inside my head reminds me of all the times in which Gale has talked about the futures with me, and how I just thought he was... Well... Just talking.

* * *

_"Do you want to have kids, Catnip?" Gale asks softly as we lay back in the long grass on the hill that overlooks the valley and the towering mountains. I don't even pause to answer._

_"No. Not in this world." Gale is silent, mulling over my answer. I pluck another strand of the tall golden grass around me and chew it thoughtfully, listening to the sound of crickets and enjoying the sun on my skin. _

_Today is an uncharacteristically hot day in May, which is when it should be milder and greener and kinder. Gale and I have spent the day swimming and rooting up Katniss bulbs from the muddy riverbed with our feet. They're delicious baked, so we cooked them on a scrap of warped metal, heated by the sun, and have spent the rest of our afternoon laying back and drying out our clothes. Gale is wearing nothing but his briefs, and I'm wearing a vest and a pair of shorts. Our clothes are spread out around us as we stare up at the clouds. _

_Any sense of modesty has been thrown of the metaphorical window, but I've noticed how Gale's piercing grey eyes- eerily similar to mine- graze over my body. I'm skinny, horribly so, and my hips and ribs jaunt out in a way they really shouldn't. I don't know why he keeps looking. My body is calloused and bony and scarred, nothing a fourteen year old should be proud of. _

_Gale is skinny as well, but has a layer of muscles, evidence of all the time he's spent hunting. I have muscles too, but they are barely anything. Winter was hard on my family, and we've wasted away. At sixteen, the soft (kinda disgusting) peach fuzz that used to grow upon his skin has turned into. A beard that he now has to shave most mornings, arm hair and a ribbon of hair just below his belly button. Hazelle keeps begging him to stop growing up, that she misses her hair-free, high-voiced 'Galey poo'. _

_I doubt I'll ever get tired of Gale's childhood nickname._

_He has other ideas._

_I've never been keen or overly hairy men, but who am I to complain? It isn't like I shave or wax my legs or pluck my eyebrows like the girls at school. There's no need. _

_"District 12 isn't that bad. We've turned out sane enough to function, haven't we?" Gale talks into the sky, nudging his foot against mine._

_"Sae says you have to crazy to survive," I tell him. "I don't want children who have to survive. If I had kids, I'd want them to __**live**__, not fight."_

_"Sae doesn't know what's she doing, so you can't listen to her." Gale says._

_"I'll tell her that next time you want soup." I retort. Gale chuckles, and glances at me again. I wrinkle my nose and stretch like a cat, enjoying the popping sound my neck makes. Gale makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat, before glancing at me again. _

_"I know I'm skinny, Gale. You don't have to keep looking at me." I say airily. Gale begins coughing violently, and I turn my head to see that his face has gone bright red, his eyes wide._

_"Uh, yeah," He says, looking away hastily. "Sorry. Winter was hard on us too."_

_"Jesus, calm down," I say when he clears his throat. "Do you want a drink or somethin'?"_

_"No, Catnip. I'm good." _

* * *

Blinking rapidly, I come out of my head and frown. Despite the harsh winter, I was beginning to fill out around that age. And all I was wearing was a pair of shorts and a tank top. Shit. No wonder Gale was looking. He was -is- a hormonal guy, and his best friend lying practically naked next to him mustn't have helped.

As I rack my brains, remembering as much as I can about anything that could have indicated Gale's interest, I come to the conclusion that Gale Hawthorne was a bit of a pervert. Some would argue that he was just curious, and that I was just too stupid to realise how he was feeling.

"Not really." I mumble. Peeta arches his eyebrow.

"Not really? So you must have noticed something." I spin the knife between my fingers, a well-practiced action, and grit my teeth, hanging stubbornly onto the idea that Gale is my friend, and my friend only.

"He's not interested in me like that, Peeta." I conclude quietly, walking away. Peeta scrubs his face with his hands and groans. I begin resolutely finish making dinner, turning down the heat on the oven so that the stew doesn't overcook.

A small light flickers on above me when Peeta flicks the switch on the wall, filling the room with a bright glow that takes a few seconds to adjust to. I'm used to candles or lanterns or dim yellow bulbs to light my home, not these garish things. I'll have to scrounge some softer bulbs from the Hob or the market.

_But that was your old home._ My conscious reminds me. I grip the spoon I'm using to stir Peeta and mine's meal tightly, my knuckles turning white.

_Yes, that was my old home. Now I am in a house that needs to be made into a home. I can do that. It can't be that difficult. _

_Poor little Katniss, unable to do this simple thing. _I purse my lips._ You can't let down the barricades protecting your heart and make a home._

_I've let the barricades down. Peeta brought them down._

_He must be something pretty special to be able to do that._

_He's the father of my child, asshole. And my fiancé._

_Something more material that physical._

_Fuck off._

I set about laying cutlery and bowls on the table, my cheeks flushing involuntarily when I realise that's I've just had an argument with my own conscious. The first sign of madness, Sae always said. Talking to yourself out loud. What she'd make of me talking to myself in my thoughts, I'll never know.

Peeta hasn't moved from his position by the doorway. I know that I should tell him to sit down. Tell him I'm sorry for yelling with no good reason. Apologise for chucking a blade at his head.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. For yelling. For all of this." Peeta says. I face him. He's waved the surrender flag before me, yet again.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to tell me. If Gale wanted to say anything, he should've been the one to say it."

"Katniss..."

"And I shouldn't have shouted or, you know, flung a knife at you." I smile ruefully, waving the knife in the air.

"You've got great aim."

"I'm just glad it didn't hit you."

"Not as glad as I am." Peeta chuckles. I can feel the tension leaving the room, and my shoulders begin to loosen.

"I bet it would've been fun, explaining why you had died from a knife to head." I remark.

"Mom would have a field day." Peeta laughs.

"Are we alright?" I ask.

"Course we are." Peeta says. He walks forward and envelopes me into his arms. I place the knife onto the counter and inhale his scent, filling my lungs. My stomach gets in the way, and I end up sticking my butt out.

"We've got until April." I say softly, once the kitchen has fallen silent again.

"Shit." Peeta says, and the laugh that follows, rumbling through his chest, makes me smile, knowing that we'll be all right.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Mom never let us wear just our socks or go barefoot in the bakery, for two reasons. Firstly, because she considered it unhygienic (I agreed), and secondly, because she didn't want a mess on her floors.

I received my first pair of big black boots on my fourth birthday. I can remember Dad taking me to the cobbler to get fitted, and coming home with my old soft shoes in hand, and my feet rammed into a pair of unforgiving, leather monstrosities that made my feet bend in a funny way. They clunked loudly against the bumpy ground underfoot- or under_boot_ - and I kept tripping over because my feet were suddenly twice as big and got in the way.

After weeks of blisters and crying and galloping like a horse up and down the back street, I got used to the fact that these were what the Mellark boys wore. Mom could wear her pointy shoes with a little heel, but we had to wear shoes that were tough enough to withstand the daily grind.

So the feeling of cold stone beneath my feet is alien, yet comforting. And Katniss keeps pushing up the bottom of my pants and placing her icy toes against my warm skin, making me shudder each time. She just smiles into her cup of water.

But her cold digits curling against my calves is okay. I don't mind.

We make small talk over dinner, the scraping of cutlery against dishes causing the most noise, rather than our voices. Katniss tells me about the time Lady kicked her into a water trough, and I tell her about the time that Rye fell into the pigpen. After we've finished eating, Katniss tells me in her own affectionate way to 'fuck off and let me do the dishes'. I hang around for a while, offering to help, but my fiancé ignores me, pretending that I'm not there. Eventually I give up, and go outside to nail a hook into the wall and the back of the house to hang up my punching bag. In the winter months it normally goes unused, but it's useful when I need to get my anger out. Or release my stress somewhere that isn't going to hurt me.

As I punch the bag with my bare fist, I can practically hear Dad scolding me for not wrapping up my knuckles. But the feeling of my bare fingers against the tough leather is pleasant, so I carry on, feeling beads of sweat sliding down my neck.

"It's freezing out here," Katniss says from the backdoor. I turn, grabbing the bag to stop it form swinging. I didn't even hear her coming. "Why are you outside _willingly_?"

This makes me chuckle, and I flex my arms in front of me, inspecting for goose bumps. "I'm alright." I shrug.

"I didn't know you could box." Katniss says, pulling a blanket around her hunched shoulders, tying it at the front and stepping out onto the path.

"Mom insisted. Wanted my brothers and I to stay in shape for wrestling matches." I explain.

"But it looks painful. Whacking your fists repeatedly against a bag? Come on, really?"

"It isn't that bad."

"I swear you're meant to wear glove things. To wrap your hands up?" Katniss asks, walking closer to me. I look down at my hands. She's right, and so was Dad. My hands are throbbing now, and the skin is turning red.

"Uh, yeah. I am." Katniss rolls her eyes and steps in front of me.

"So, how do you do this?" She asks, pushing the punching bag gently. "Damn this is heavier than I thought." She adds.

"It's filled with sand," I tell her, taking her hands and curling them into fists. "Step back a little." I instruct her. Katniss steps back, right into me, and her ass presses up against my groin. _Shit. _

"Like this?" She asks.

"Yup, like this," I nod my head. "And then loosen your shoulders a little, and bring your hands up to your face." Katniss does as I say.

"And then just… hit it?" She asks.

"Pretty much," I grin. "It isn't rocket science." I go to stand behind the bag and hold it still as Katniss brings her fist around to hit it. Compared to the blows of my brothers, Katniss' hit it pathetic. The bag barely moves.

"I don't like it." She says stubbornly.

"Why not?"

"Because when other people have done it the bag moves." Katniss continues. I stick my head around the bag and look at her.

"They've probably practiced, and most likely stron-" I shake my head, stopping myself from continuing.

Katniss scowls at me. "What were you going to say, Peeta?" She asks, narrowing her eyes, dropping her hands to her sides and approaching me.

"Nothing." I smirk.

"Were you about to say that they're _stronger_ than me?" She asks.

"No!" I feign hurt. "I would _never!_"

Katniss raises her eyebrows. "If I wanted to, I could beat you, Rye and Fen at wrestling. Any day."

_I wouldn't mind wrestling you. _I think to myself, my cheeks flaming at the thought.

"Is that so?" I ask.

"Yup?"

"All three of us at once? You versus the wrestling champions of the district?"

"Not all at once. That would stupid." Katniss snorts.

"I bet you couldn't."

"Well not anymore, since I'm pregnant."

"And whose fault is that?" I ask, pulling her to me. She punches my chest.

"You need a male to make a baby." She retorts sharply.

"Capitol scientists have found a way to not need men."

"Well aren't I lucky?" Katniss rolls her eyes. She shivers and rubs her arms. "Hurry up. I'm cold." She demands.

"I'll be ten seconds." I say, picking up the waterproof sleeve for the punching bag from the floor and pulling it over. Katniss retreats back inside. A few seconds later, I follow her, the warmth of the house causing my skin to tingle.

Walking into the kitchen, I find that Katniss is not there. I head into the furniture-less living room. She isn't there either. I climb the stairs. Light is spilling out into the hallway from under the closed bathroom door. I can't decide if putting a door there was a good idea or not. In my creepiest move yet, I press my ear to the door, only to be greeted with the sound of Katniss singing. I listen for a few moments, her gentle voice soothing me, before knocking on the door.

"Katniss?" I ask.

"How do I work the shower?" She replies. I try the handle.

"Unlock the door." I say. Katniss slides the lock and opens the door.

Jesus Christ.

Standing on the tile floor is Katniss, wearing nothing but a towel. Her legs seem impossibly long; her hair is done from its braid and rippling around her shoulders. She bends down to move her clothes out of the way so I can reach the shower cubicle and the towel slips slightly. I tear my eyes away, but not before I see a flash of her chest. She clears her throat and pulls it back up.

"We, uh, don't have a shower back home." She says.

"Ours was crappy." I say, remembering days of dodging the jet of water as it abruptly changed from scalding hot to freezing cold. I lean over to turn the dial stuck to the wall, and –thankfully- warm water rains down.

"Oh!" Katniss says, stepping forward to hold her hand under the stream.

"Alright, so this is how you turn it on," I explain, turning the knob. "And t change the temperature you turn this one." I say.

"Awesome." Katniss grins from beside me. Swallowing deeply, I try to ignore the feeling of her _almost naked _body pressing against my side.

"You got it?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Yes, I think so," She nods. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I say, straightening up.

"I'll be quick so you can wash up. You're all yucky and sweaty." She wrinkles her nose and steps away from me. I stretch my arms up and out.

"What do you mean?" I ask, stepping forward. She steps back. "I am _not _sweaty."

"So you're telling me that 'sweaty' is your natural masculine scent?" Katniss asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm, gripping the towel lightly with one hand and edging away from me.

"Sweaty? I don't think so."

"Don't come near me." She threatens.

"There aren't any knives in here Katniss," I smirk. "Sorry."

"There's still… err, whatever this shit is." Katniss says, grabbing a hairbrush.

"Ooo. Scary. What are you going to do? Brush my hair until I die?" I ask. Katniss locks her jaw and smiles sweetly.

"Get out, Mellark. Let me shower in peace."

Showered, clean and smelling fresh, I flop down face-first onto my bed an hour later. Katniss laughs. I grumble into the pillow.

"I didn't quite catch that." She teases.

I lift my head from the pillow. "I'm tired. Leave me alone."

"I offered to help," Katniss says as she closes the bedroom door. "Multiple times, in fact."

"And I was the noble gentlemen who refused."

"Don't you mean 'stubborn townie'?" I sit up and shove her with my foot.

"I'll sleep downstairs if you want." I offer, climbing off the bed.

Katniss wraps a tie around the end of her braid. "On what? The floor?" She pulls back the blankets. "No, it's okay. It's not like we haven't been here before."

"And by here, you mean this bed?" I ask.

"Charming, Mellark. Where has that noble gentlemen gone?"

"Sorry." I laugh, climbing into bed.

"Yeah, you should be." Katniss says, sliding under the covers and rubbing her eyes, stifling a yawn.

"I'm surprised that I didn't fall asleep the second my head hit the pillow." I remark.

"Me too," Katniss sighs, turning onto her side and placing a hand on her stomach. "I just want to sleep for a few years."

"What time are you going to meet Gale?" I ask, facing the plainly painted ceiling, admiring a crack that runs across the concrete above us. How reassuring.

"I dunno," Katniss shrugs. "Sometime in the morning, probably."

"You sound enthusiastic."

"I just want to stop fighting with him. He's my best friend. We don't normally _not_ speak for this long. We kinda just… get on with it."

"You'll be okay." I reassure her, taking her hand. We fall into silence.

"It's really quiet," Katniss mumbles, shifting onto her back like me. "I'm used to Prim lying next to me."

"If I grow my hair long, maybe you can pretend I'm Prim." I chuckle.

"Ugh, no." Katniss laughs.

"I know how you feel. I'm used to hearing my brothers snoring. Sounds like thunder half the time." Katniss giggles.

"I don't snore, so don't worry." She says.

"Apparently I do." I confess.

"Great."

"I know."

"I'll hit you with a pillow if it sounds like thunder."

"You do that."

"I will."

"Good."

"Brilliant." I pull the collection of thin blankets up to my shoulder. Katniss shuffles closer to me.

"It's way too cold in her." She shudders, placing her hand on my bare chest, and curling up beside me, her eyes closing as she snuggles up close.

Yeah, I could definitely get used to this feeling.


	31. Chapter 31: Difficulties

**Thank you sooo much for all the reviews, guys. I can't believe we've hit 400+ reviews, it's ridiculous :D Those of you who have been wondering about my story 'One Wish' and when I'm going to update, I assure you that I am currently writing the next chapter. Each one (aprox. 3) will be super long, so it's taking a long time. Sorry for the wait, for both this story and One Wish D:**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

What wakes me isn't a bad dream. Or a bad memory. Or the urge to pee. But is instead the feeling of being alone. Peeta's warm body is not next to mine. The bed is cold.

Sitting up, my hair a dark mane around me, I wait for my eyes to adjust. It's early in the day, about four a.m.. Everything is quiet. Too quiet. I creep out of bed and pull open the door. Golden light spills out from the bathroom door. My shoulders slump and I let out a sigh of relief. Peeta is here. I am not alone. He's only in the bathroom. I return to the bed and curl up half on his pillow, half on mine, inhaling his scent, letting it lull me back into the peaceful darkness of sleep.

* * *

When I wake up again, it is no longer dark out. The glittering moon and stars have been replaced by weak sunlight and cold grey skies that promise snow. I turn onto my back and stretch, rubbing my swollen stomach thoughtfully before sitting upright, my back against the headboard, blankets pooling messily around me. I only allow myself to really pay attention to my tummy in the mornings, when I know that Prim and Mom will either be asleep or somewhere else in the house. But Mom and Prim are no longer here. Beside me, Peeta is lying on his stomach, his neck twisted at an angle as to allow him to breath, snoring softly. They're barely noticeable, his snores. I find them quite sweet. He looks so calm in his sleep, child-like, almost.

Satisfied that Peeta is still asleep, I tentatively pull my shirt up to reveal my bare stomach and run my fingers over my skin. The feeling of my baby moving never ceases to amaze me, in a quiet, strange sort of way. My peacefulness is disrupted when Peeta turns over and sighs deeply, scrubbing at his face. I yank my shirt down.

"Hey." I murmur gently, smoothing my hair. Peeta opens his eyes, and the stunning blueness of his irises shocks me. Compared to his pale exterior of creamy skin and blonde curls, his eyes stand out like a sore thumb. But in a good way, obviously.

"Mornin'," Peeta smiles, his voice gruff from sleep, a lazy smile on his lips. I push his hair from his eyes. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have recently." I reply cheerfully. And I'm not lying.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I have gotten a good night sleep. Usually I'm up before dawn to go hunting or run errands, and don't get to sleep until late at night. Even if I manage to have a early night or a lay-in, I always have horrible dreams that wake me, or sleep so lightly that the slightest of noises, like a dog barking a few streets over or Prim mumbling in her sleep, can wake me repeatedly. With Peeta, however, I have had a good rest. He seems to have a calming presence about him.

"Good." He nods.

"What about you?" I ask, remembering the dark circles that have hung under his eyes recently. Leaning closer, I find that they're still there.

"I slept well, thanks."

"You still have shadows."

"I'm fine," Peeta says, placing a reassuring hand on my cheek. I grimace, not happy with his answer. "Would you like breakfast in bed?"

"Yes please. Do you want any help?"

"Nah. You just lay back and relax." Peeta says, climbing to his feet and exiting the room. I stare at the bed sheets, and not at his ass through his sweat pants.

Below me, in the kitchen, I can hear Peeta cooking something, and my stomach rumbles when a delicious scent wafts up to me. I gather my hair to one side and braid it, keeping it out of my face. I cross the hallway into the bathroom and splash some water on my face, before returning to the bedroom. I almost trip over Peeta' boots, which he's placed neatly by the door.

On closer inspection, I notice that his usually clean shoes are covered in a layer of coal dust, and the toes are all scuffed. I crouch down and pick up the shoes, turning them over in my hands. My fingers come away stained black. I frown and go to the window, hissing as the cold air hits me. I clunk the shoes together in an effort to get the dust off, but have to retreat back into the relative warmth of the house when the glacial winds make me start to shiver. I return the boots back to their original position and brush off the coal dust from my hands.

Going to the bed, I straighten out the duvet and the pillows and sit cross-legged with a blanket over my lap. Peeta arrives a few minutes later, balancing a tray in one hand and two cups in the other.

"Where did you get all this food from?" I ask him, my eyes widening at the feast he's brought up. "It's just breakfast."

"Well, you're eating for two and we've got a big day ahead of us," He shrugs, placing the tray down and sitting beside me. "And I'm simply hungry."

I grin at this.

"So, what have we to eat?" I ask.

"Orange juice, some cupcakes, toast, cheese buns and an apple." Peeta says.

"Cheese buns!" I grin, snatching up the item and taking a bite, my cheeks reddening when I let out a groan of delight. Peeta smiles sheepishly at me. "Sorry. I just really love cheese buns." I add.

"I know you do, that's why I made them." Peeta nods, picking up a slice of toast.

"Yes yes, I get it. Clever Peeta," I tease. Peeta throws a leftover piece of crust from the toast at me. I scowl. "Why would you waste perfectly good food?"

"I don't think I need to worry about food going to waste." He chuckles, looking down at my hand. Clasped in between my thumb and index finger is my second cheese bun. I clap my hand over my mouth, my eyes widening. Peeta only made three buns, and I've chomped my way through the majority of them.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Did you want one?" I ask, mortified at my lack of manners.

"No, no. You eat them. I don't mind."

"Really?" I ask.

"Go ahead." Peeta grins, taking a sip of the orange juice. Slightly hesitantly, I finish the bun I have in my hand before reaching for the second. As I examine the pastry, the dough oozing with creamy cheese and butter, I suddenly have a craving for chocolate.

Not the cheap kind that comes with the New Years Packages from the Capitol, but the rich, deliciously scented kind that melts in your mouth. This craving surprises me, especially since I've only ever had chocolate a few times. Mainly from the bakery, when I have enough money to buy a chocolate cupcake or some cookies with chocolate chips in them.

"Have we got any chocolaty stuff?" I ask eagerly, my mouth filled with food. Peeta frowns and narrows his eyes as he thinks, chewing on the toast.

"I'm not sure. There might be some in one of the boxes. You'll have too have a loo-"

Long before Peeta can finish his sentence, I'm up and scrambling out of the room, making a beeline for the kitchen. Peeta calls my name, but I continue on my warpath, tearing open the few boxes of food Peeta and I have managed to pull together.

"Katniss?" My fiancé asks, appearing at the doorway of the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I need chocolate." I state with a sigh, running my hand through my hair.

"I might have some of the chocolate syrup that Dad uses to make icing, but I'm not sure."

"Where?" I demand.

"Uh, somewhere." Peeta scratches his head. I place my hands on my stomach, just in time to feel the baby move a little. Peeta's eyes shoot to watch, his hands twisting together.

"Your kid's getting impatient." I scowl. Peeta gives me a withering look.

"So's my fiancé." I hear him mutter as he begins searching through the boxes, removing various jars and tins and bags with much more care than I. He eventually pulls out a heavy tin and cranks the lid off, holding it out to me warily. I snatch it from him and- to Peeta's disgust- begin to pour some of the thick syrup onto the cheese bun.

"Oh yeah." I grin, before sinking my teeth into it.

"Holy fuck," Peeta grimaces. "What are you doing?"

"Hormones." I say. Peeta rolls his eyes.

"Whatever."

"Don't judge me."

"I'm not."

"Yeah you are," I wrinkle my nose, swallowing the cheesy, doughy, sticky concoction. "I can feel it." Peeta chuckles and I dip the spoon into the jar again, before sticking the spoon into my mouth.

"Uh, Katniss. Not that watching you eat disgusting stuff is fun, but that stuff it expensive." I reluctantly hold the jar out, and Peeta takes it from me with a rueful smile.

"It's so good though."

"I'll make some cookies, if you want?"

"Yes please." I nod eagerly.

Blimey. I've been here less than a day and I'm already eating everything we have. Peeta, who has brought the tray of delicacies downstairs with him, peels the apple with a knife, handing me slices as I perch on the countertop, swinging my legs back and forth. He's watching me intently as I eat, and keeps pushing his hair out of his eyes, growing more pissed off each time his hair flops over his forehead.

After finishing breakfast, I get dressed and tell Peeta that I'm going to talk to Gale.

"Be careful in the forest, Katniss. And wrap up warm." He says as I groan and pull another knitted scarf around my neck dramatically.

"Alright, Mom." I roll my eyes. Peeta walks towards me with a smile, his eyes impossibly blue, his golden curls tousled from sleep.

"I'll probably be at the bakery when you get back, so I guess I'll see you later in the afternoon." He tells me.

"See you later." I say, standing up onto my tiptoes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before ducking out of the doorway. The cold air hits me and I shiver, rubbing my hands up and down my hands in an effort to keep warm.

On the way to the forest, I'm greeted with snide remarks and scathing glares from townies and Seam folk alike. As much as I try to ignore it and pretend that they aren't there, I find myself looking down at the ground with a perpetual grimace. It hurts. It really does.

And what surprises me is that I have to physically force myself to keep walking, and not turn around and run back to the house I must now call a home. Because Peeta is there. He'll hold me and tell me that it's okay.

Sliding under the fence is slightly harder than last time, and I catch my coat on the sharp metal spokes several times. Undeterred, I continue walking through the icy forest. I can see Gale sitting at our usual meeting spot, his shoulder hunched in the cold. I swallow. I haven't seen him for so long. Or spoken to him.

"Gale." I say, keeping my voice level. My friend turns and spots me, and a large smile appears on his face.

"Catnip!" He grins, standing up and walking towards me. Although I'm not sure if I want him to or not, he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight, so tightly in fact, that I can barely breath.

"Hey," I say, once he's let me go. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Gale replies, sitting back down on the flat boulder. "How about you?"

"I'm doing alright."

"Dough Boy treatin' you right?" He asks, his grey eyes hard.

"Gale…"

"If he isn't, I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind."

"Jesus Christ, Gale. He's my fiancé. He's treating me well," I exclaim. "If you go and fight him again, I'm never going to forgive you! What is your problem?"

"My problem?" Gale splutters. _Oh. So much for a friendly conversation where we made up and became friends again._ "My problem is that he knocked you up and now you've practically disappeared off the face of Panem!"

"I have not disappeared! You just acted like a complete jackass, and that's why I have 'disappeared'!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up into the air.

"Katniss, why don't you understand?" Gale asks, holding his head in his hands, threading his fingers through his hair. "You don't deserve to have to do this!"

"I have no choice! I have to look after my baby. And I can't leave Peeta out of _his_ child's life. It isn't fair."

Gale steps forward, his eyes pained. "No, what isn't fair is that I've lost _my_ best friend."

I sigh and look down at my feet. "I'm sorry, okay? You're my best friend too. I've missed you, I'll admit to that, but you should be apologising to Peeta, not me."

"I've already apologised. Dough Boy-"

"_Peeta_." I interject.

"Whatever. He accepted it, so I don't see what the problem is."

"That's just how Peeta is. He forgives people," I say softly. "It's his nature."

"I miss you, Catnip." Gale says softly, tugging on the end of my braid.

"I know."

"Please forgive me."

"I want to know why you did it, first." I demand, crossing my arms over my chest –which has swelled a crazy amount in the past few weeks- and raising my eyebrows.

"I was angry," Gale tells me. "One minute you were just Catnip. And the next minute you're… you're married and pregnant for God's sake. I didn't know what to think…" He sighs heavily. "So I just… reacted. Showing him how I felt was the only thing I could think of doing." I stand there, processing what I've just been told. Gale Hawthorne. He cares about me, obviously. Even though I'm still a little angry, I feel myself beginning to understand why he reacted the way he did.

Shaking my head, I scrub my face with my gloved hands.

"I forgive you," I say. "But please, _please_, understand that I'm happy. You don't need to protect me anymore. I'm not made of glass."

"Thank you." Gale murmurs.

"You want a cupcake?" I ask, fishing the blueberry muffin I snatched from breakfast from my jacket pocket and essentially changing the subject.

"He's fattening you up." Gale smirks.

"That's the side affect of pregnancy." I say sarcastically, splitting the cupcake in two and handing him the bigger half.

"How do your clothes still fit?"

"Shut up." I growl. Gale chuckles.

"Am I still invited to the wedding?"

"You were never invited in the first place."

"What?!" Gale feigns hurt.

"With all the stress of dealing with the engagement, and the baby, and moving in with each other, we haven't had time to really think about wedding plans."

"I'll be your maid of honour."

"I don't think you have the legs for a dress." I smirk.

"You're jealous of my pins." Gale grins, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Yeah, okay." I roll my eyes.

Feeling comforted at out renewed friendship, I stay out in the forest for a few more hours with Gale. We chat aimlessly, catching up with the things we've missed in all the weeks we've been apart."

"What are you doing for Christmas?" I ask.

"The usual. I'll go round yours and get Prim and your Mom, and then we'll eat over at my place."

"Prim and Mom are coming for dinner at Peeta and mine's house. You're all welcome too." I offer. Gale wrinkles his nose.

"Don't you think it would be a little tense?"

"Probably, but you two need to stop acting like children and face up to each other. I'll sit you at the ends of the table so you have a bigger distance between each other."

"Thanks for the invitation, Catnip. I'll think about it." Gale says. We fall into silence, following a winding path that creeps up a hill and past a tiny stream.

"You're not in the mines, are you?" I ask.

"Not this winter." Gale shakes his head.

"Good." I smile. Another thing for me to stop worrying about. Gale has worked in the mines many times, trying to get some extra income.

"You know, the snow hasn't arrived as early as last year and stuff, so I've been able to trade for longer."

"Posy wants a new doll, doesn't she?" I ask knowingly.

"Yup," Gale confirms. "She knows that money is tight, but she's a little girl."

"I understand," I say, placing my hand on his arm consolingly. "You know what that same little girl would like?" I ask.

"What?" Gale queries.

"A townie Christmas dinner." I tease, hinting to my invite.

"Oh, so you're a townie now?" Gale asks, ignoring my jibe and stepping onto the rock, navigating across the frozen over stream that blocks out path.

"More like a wolf in sheep's clothing." I retort.

"You can take the girl out of the Seam, but you can't take the Seam outta the girl." Gale says, landing on the bank and dry ground.

"Damn right," I say, stepping forward, my arms outstretched to keep my balance. But as I open my mouth to say something, I step onto the ice and it cracks under my weight. I stumble, my hands out in front of me to break my fall.

"Whoa! Catnip!" Gale yelps, jumping forward to catch me.

"I'm heavier than I remembered." I gasp, pushing myself upright. Gale lifts me onto the bank.

"Yeah, you are." He says, flexing his arms dramatically after putting me down.

"Shut your face." I say, brushing myself down and checking for injuries. I landed on my right knee pretty heavily, and a throbbing ache radiates through my leg.

"Are you okay?" Gale asks, his brow creasing as I rub my knee.

"Just bruised it." I shrug.

"And the..._kid_?"

"Absolutely fine." I say. Gale looks relieved.

"Should you be walking on a bad knee?"

"I'm fine, Gale." I insist.

"Because I don't want Dough Boy to rough me up for hurting his fiancé."

"You'd fight back." I say pointedly.

* * *

Limping back home is a painful process, and when I finally reach the doorway of my home, I lean against the wall.

"You really didn't have to walk all this way, you know." I tell Gale.

"I know, " He shrugs indifferently, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot. "But I had to make sure you didn't slip."

"Thanks." I smile. Gale looks up at me. I pull him into a hug, inhaling his woodsy scent.

And then it hits me.

'_That he's in love with you_!' Peeta's words echo in my mind, repeating over and over again like a sticky record. Gale pulls away after what most would find a very long hug, and his hands linger on my waist momentarily.

"You know that I love you, Gale. Don't you?" I ask carefully.

"I know." Gale says simply.

"But just as a friend. Or like a brother." Gale's smile fades a little.

"I know." He repeats.

"Peeta said..." I say, pausing to collect my bearings. "He said that you loved me."

My friend's face pales and he steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Friends love each other." He mumbles.

"Yes. They love each other, but they are not _in_ love with each other."

"Catnip, it's difficult to explain."

"So do you love me, or are you in love with me?"

"Why does it matter?" Gale asks, exasperated.

"It matters because I care about you. I care about Peeta. And I actually do care out this baby. I need to know."

"You love him." Gale says, his eyes widening comically.

"What?" I ask, confused. "Don't change the subject."

"You love Peeta!"

"I care about him!" I hiss.

"We'll, this is fantastic. He'll be ecstatic."

"What?"

"Oh, you didn't believe me when I said that he was in love with you, did you?"

"Peeta and I are just friends."

"Friends? _Just_ _friends_? I'm your friend I don't see us shacking up." Gale snorts.

"This baby was an accident!" I snarl, stepping close to my friend, our noses almost touching. "But a good accident. Peeta is a good man. He's going to be a great husband, and a loving father. Don't criticise him."

"I'm not." Gale narrows his eyes.

"You love me."

"I guess you could call it that, but your heart has already been taken but that blonde-haired, blue-eyed creep!"

"He is not a creep!" I stamp my foot, enraged.

"Don't throw a fit," Gale says. "And I think anyone would call staring at you for ten years and sketching you in private creepy, Catnip."

This throws me off for a while, and I stand there, shocked. "Don't say it like that, and it won't sound creepy."

"Defending him?" Gale asks. "Boy, he has his hooks in you so deep."

"Fuck you Hawthorne. You're jealous because a townie got the girl."

"Oh yeah?" Gale challenges.

"Yeah." I hiss.

"You're being a hormonal bitch."

"You are, not me!" I cry out, knowing that I'm sounding like a spoilt brat."I think you're the pregnant one!" I say, jabbing him sharply in the stomach with my finger. He does the same and I cringe, grasping at my stomach protectively.

"If I were, I'd be the better parent."

"How dare you," I scowl, my hammering in my chest. "Accuse me of being a bad mother!"

And then, to make everything even more complicated, Gale steps forward, grabs my face harshly, and kisses me.

My eyes are open the entire time, and I stand there, rigid as a board. And then the kiss is over- barely a kiss, really- and Gale steps back.

"_Never_ do that again." I stammer.

"Sorry." Gale says, not meeting my eyes. The angry tension that was just between us has been replaced by shock.

"I'm going to go inside now." I say, moving away.

"Bye."

"You're still invited for Christmas dinner." I call after my friend's retreating form.

"Okay." He replies solemnly.

"This never happened." I state.

"What never happened?" Gale asks.

Quickly, I retreat into the house, wrap up my knee and fall asleep on Peeta's bed, and try to forget what has just happened.

Is it possible for my best friend _and_ fiancé to actually be in love me?

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I cradle my hand carefully on the walk back home from work. It hurts like hell.

As I make my way down the road, our house in sight, someone grabs my arm and tugs it.

"Mr Mellark?" An middle-aged woman asks, squinting up at me.

"Mrs Backman," I greet her. Mrs Backman lives almost opposite us, on the older part of town. I'm used to seeing her buying bread back at the bakery, not as my neighbour. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I would say that it's more what I can do for you, Mr." She says, pursing her lips.

"What is it?" I ask.

"You're marrying that Everdeen girl, aren't you? The one from the Seam?" Mrs Backman asks.

"Yes, that is correct." I nod my head and smile brightly.

"I assume that you are faithful and loyal to her, and do not fraternise with other women when your partner is not present?"

"Yes, of course." I say.

"I wouldn't say the same thing about your bride. I was walking back from my daughter's house, and spotted Miss Everdeen kissing Mr Hawthorne! In broad daylight too! Had him up against the wall of your house, and he seemed pretty eager as well, with his hands all over her."

"You must be mistaken." I stammer, shaking my head.

"I may be old, but my eyesight is still as good as yours. I know what I saw."

"Okay, uh. Thank you, Mrs Backman." I smile weakly. Mrs Backman pats me on the arm, mutters her apologies at being the bearer of bad news, and walks away.

I'm left there, standing in the street. Katniss would never kiss gale, would she? No, shes pregnant with my child and is going to marry me next month. Gritting my teeth, I head towards the house. I'll see if Katniss says anything before asking her myself.

The house is quiet when I push the front door open.

"Katniss?" I call, kicking off my boots and heading for the kitchen. I hiss in pain and run my hand under the tap to wash it before wrapping it in a bandage. No answer. Could she really be in the forest after all this time? Did she come looking for me? Is something wrong? Is she or the baby injured? My heart palpitates and I get a sickening feeling in my gut.

Racing up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, I sigh in relief to see Katniss curled up on the bed, a blanket over her shoulders. I push her hair from her face, and almost jump out of my skin when she opens her eyes.

"Hey." She whispers.

"Hi." I greet her, waiting for her to say anything. Something.

"You have a good day?"

"Yeah, it was fun." Katniss spots my bandaged hand and sits up, frowning.

"What happened to your hand?" She asks, her voice rising an octave as she take my hand gently in hers.

"Nothing much. Got it trapped in the door," I shrug it off and sit down on the bed beside her. "What about your knee?" I ask, looking down at her bandaged limb.

"I slipped on some ice. Nothing to worry about. I just need to rest it." Katniss tells me. She reaches up and brushes her hand through my hair. Sooty dust puffs into the air.

"Damned stuff gets everywhere," I joke. Katniss smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Is something wrong?" I ask. Is this the moment when she tells me? "You made up with Gale, didn't you?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Katniss says. I study her eyes carefully. She certainly looks guilty. Was Mrs Backman's observation true?

"You tired?" I ask.

"A little."

"I'll heat up the stew from last night." I tell her. She nods.

"I'll be down in a minute, let me change first." She replies. I kiss the top of her head and leave the room, heading downstairs to heat up the leftovers from yesterday.

Slicing a loaf of bread, I power through pain of my hand, using it to anchor me to reality. My head is spinning. My eyes feel heavy. I'm just so tired. Right now, I reckon I would fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

"Good timing." I comment as Katniss enters the room, just as I'm placing the bowls of stew down onto the table.

"Smells good." She smiles, pulling a sweater over her head. Her shirt rises over her stomach, and I spot a blossoming bruise.

"Ouch, how did you do that?" I ask her, stepping closer.

"Do what?" She asks, giving me a puzzled look.

"That bruise. On your tummy," I say, prying her layers of clothing up to reveal her bare belly to me. Just below her navel is a small purple mark.

"I poked Gale and he poked me back." She says casually. I frown, flattening my finger tips over her warm skin. Gale. Of course.

"Poked or stabbed?"

"It was an accident," Katniss says quietly, not meeting my gaze. "We're alright, don't worry."

Unsatisfied and uncertain about Katniss' answer, I pull her chair out for her and we sit down to eat. Katniss doesn't ask for chocolate with the main meal, but questions me to whether we have ny cookie in the household.

"I made you some. As promised." I smile. Katniss beams.

Her smile, however, doesn't last for long. We sit by the fire to eat the cookies, wrapped up in a blanket. Katniss snuggles into my side, and I wrap my arm around her to keep her close.

"So your talk with Gale went well?" I ask softly.

"Yep." Katniss whispers. I nod in approval.

"Good. Is he still coming round for Christmas?"

"He said that he'd think about it."

Silence envelopes us. I sigh, leaning back against the sofa.

"Did you kiss Gale?" I burst out, unable to hold it in any longer. I have to know. I need to know. I'm loyal to Katniss, and I'd never leave her of kiss someone else. I love her too much to see her get hurt.

Katniss stiffens, and I hear her sharp intake of breath. "Why would you think that?" She asks carefully.

"Usually, I wouldn't. But Mrs Backman told me that she saw you kissing Gale in the street." I tell her. Katniss sits up, leaning back on her heels.

"It isn't what you think." She whispers, her voice breaking.

It feels like my heart is being torn to pieces. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere, and she does this. I pull away from her and rest my elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands. In addition to my tired state, the urge to cry is overwhelming.

"But you still kissed him."

"He kissed me."

"And you let him? Mrs Backman said it was in broad daylight."

"It was in broad daylight but I didn't-"

"You pushed him up against the wall and kissed him back?" I ask, my words getting louder. Standing up, I face my fiancé, shifting my weight anxiously.

"No!" Katniss exclaims, her eyes wide. "He just...just grabbed my face and kissed me. I couldn't pull away!"

"I can't believe this is happening," I say, squeezing my eyes shut. The couch creaks as Katniss stands up. "Why didn't you push him away?"

"I don't know. I was surprised and just stood there. I didn't know what to do!" She cries, steeping closer.

"No, don't come near me. I need space." I shake my head. Ignoring my demands, Katniss winds her arms around me and doesn't let go.

"He kissed me. I just stood there and didn't kiss him back. No-one was pushed up against any walls, and he apologised afterwards," she says hastily. "I told him never to do it again."

"Do you love him?"

"No! He loves me, but I only see him as a friend."

"You don't love him like that?"

"No."

I pause, looking down at Katniss, who is hugging me fiercely, her face buried into my chest. "I'm sorry." I murmur.

"Why are you saying sorry?"

"Because I assumed shit without consulting you."

"It's okay."

"I care about you, Katniss." She looks up at me and smiles, something flickering in her eyes.

"I know you do," She says. "I care about you too."

"This is going to work." I promise her.

"I know." Katniss nods, before reaching up on her toes and pressing her lips to mine. It takes me by surprise, especially when she walks me backwards until my back hits the wall.

She opens her mouth, deepening the kiss, and I groan when she threads her fingers through my hair. Taking a chance, I trail my hands down, past her hips and grip her thighs, lifting her up. She wraps her legs around my waist. The feel of her lips over mine, her tongue against mine and her chest pressed against my torso is intoxicating. I pull away and place open-mouthed kisses down her slender neck. She shivers, her head falling back to claim my mouth once again.

When she pulls away, her cheeks are bright red and her eyes are shining.

"What was that for?" I chuckle.

"I didn't enjoy getting kissed by Gale, but I like kissing you." She confesses, biting her lip.

"I don't mind kissing you either." I say, putting her down on solid ground.

"Let's go to bed." Katniss says, taking my hand and pulling me up the stairs. We change into our nightclothes and flop down under the blankets. Katniss lies beside me, placing a hand on my chest, just above my heart.

"Goodnight." I whisper into the darkness, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"Goodnight." She replies.

It's only when I'm sure she's asleep, that I tell her that I love her.

It's better that way.

For everyone.


	32. Chapter 32: Forwards into the future

**As always, thank you for the amazing amount of reviews, favourites and follows. You guys are amazing! Give me some ideas of what Katniss and Peeta would give each other for Christmas if you review! ;)**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

My night sleep goes undisturbed, and I wake to find Peeta lying on his stomach, snoring into the pillow. I gently peel back his eyelids with the pad of my thumb, and his erratic eye movements assuring me that he's fully unconscious.

Smoothing my palm under the white wife beater he wears to bed, I trace the smooth skin over his shoulder blades. I shouldn't be doing this. He could wake up any second and catch me, and how would I explain myself then? But he _is _my fiancé. Encouraged, I continue to trace the network of muscles that cover his back. All those years working at the bakery have paid off, that's for sure.

A fluttery feeling swells in my chest, before working it's way downwards, to my centre. It isn't nervous butterflies, but a strange feeling that threatens to consume me, pulling me under until I cannot breathe. I find myself wanting this feeling, however. Wanting more than kisses from Peeta. He doesn't feel the same way, though, does he?

_He's the one who initiates so many of the kisses. What does that say about him? _The voice in my head reports, causing a fiery blush to spread over my cheeks, but I push the thought aside.

My hand freezes, hovering over the small of his back, when he mutters something under his breath, smacking his lips and frowning. He turns over, facing away from me, and his shirt slips a little, baring the skin at his belt line, in between his hips. It's a well-hidden place, hidden by his pants, so there's no surprise that I've never seen it.

Jagged and pink, there's a series of long scars on his pale skin, shiny and angry-looking, mapped like a spider web.

Wrinkles crease my forehead. Where are these from? I have no doubts on who did them. I reach out my index finger and trace the markings lightly.

"What are you doing?" Peeta's voice is deep, and I squeak in surprise, jumping back. Peeta rolls over, his blue eyes focused on me, his hand on the area of his back where I was tracing the scars.

"Nothing." I stammer, shooting him a smile. He narrows his eyes.

"You were doing something. I could feel you touching my back."

"I, uh…" I trail off, picking at the blankets.

"Shit," Peeta says, sitting up with wide eyes. "You saw the scars, didn't you?" He asks me, his brows knitted together as he tugs his shirt down.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I shouldn't have… it wasn't any of my business."

Peeta exhales, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He rests his head in his hands, and runs his hands through his hair. I purse my lips. Have I gone too far? It isn't a secret, Peeta's past. We all know about how his mother had abused her sons, and that Peeta bore the brunt of her attacks, but I've only ever seen evidence of her beatings on Peeta's face- when he came to school with deep purple (almost black) bruises and deep, painful lacerations. On occasion he's had broken arms or ribs, and has on many occasions been absent from school. And a common illness like a cold is not the reason behind his non-existence.

"Peeta?" I test, my voice breaking as I step carefully over the bed, wobbling on the mattress to sit just behind him. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad with me, or embarrassed. I shouldn't have pried. " I rub his broad shoulders gently, and lay my head against his back.

"I'm not mad," Peeta chuckles softly. "I just wanted to hide it from you."

"Why?"

"Because it's from my past. I want to go forward. Not take steps back." I don't say anything for a long time, and just listen to him breathing.

"Dad always said," I begin, squeezing my eyes shut. "That the only way to move forward was to think through the past."

"Your father was a wise man."

"I know," I smile fondly. "It was your Mom, wasn't it?" I begin.

"Yes."

"Why?" I continue, rubbing circles over his shoulders.

"I was eight when it started. Mom told me to make a cake for the display. And I dropped a bowl of icing," Peeta tells me, scrubbing his face with his hands. "All the way from the Capitol, that icing. Cost a ridiculous amount for so little. And she warned me, told me _so many times_- that I couldn't mess it up. And I did. So she got Dad's belt and beat me."

"Oh, Peeta," I breathe shakily. "I'm sorry."

"The worst part was that she never told him."

"Who?"

"Dad," Peeta wrinkles his nose. "She just wiped the blood off- every single time- and folded it back into his drawer. He never knew what that leather around his waist had done to me."

For a long time, I just press soft kisses onto his bare skin, before lifting the top and touching my lips to the scars. A shiver runs up his spine.

"Does he still have it?" I ask. "The belt?"

"No. I burnt it." Peeta smiles to himself.

"I bet that felt good."

"It really did."

"Thank you for telling me." I tell him. He doesn't answer, but instead leans back and pulls me to him, gripping me tightly, pressing his lips to my forehead.

"Thank you for not giving up on me."

"I'll never give up on you." I whisper.

"I l-" Peeta pauses, and I look up to meet his gaze. His eyes are bright blue, clear as the sky on a summer day. He doesn't finish speaking. I press a soft kiss against his cheek and get up.

"Mom and Prim will probably be wanting me to visit," I tell him. "I'll probably stay for lunch."

"Cool. I'll end up in the bakery, I'm sure." Peeta smiles.

"What is today's date?" I ask, pulling out a pair of brown pants and a t-shirt the colour of springtime grass from the wardrobe and turning to face my fiancé.

"Uh, December 21st. Why?" Peeta asks, lying back on the pillows with his hands behind his head.

"We've got to get everything ready for everyone to come round in _five days_!" I exclaim.

"Don't panic. It's plenty of time."

"I'm going to shoot down a groosling."

"I'll make cake and shit." Peeta suggests.

"Close your eyes." I instruct. Peeta does as I ask, but I still turn and face the wall as I pull on my shirt.

"You done?" Peeta asks. I throw my still-warm nightshirt at him. He chuckles and tosses it aside.

"What do you want?" I ask, yanking on my shirt.

"What do I want?" Peeta asks, his eyes confused.

"Yeah. For Christmas."

"I don't need or want anything."

"Really?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "Nothing at all?" I drop down onto the bed smirk.

"Really," Peeta says, running his hands through his messy curls. Taking a chance, wanting to feel that fluttery feeling again, I crawl- on my hands and knees- towards Peeta. His eyes flit to the wall over my shoulder, before returning back to me. "What are you doing, Katniss?" He asks warily. I crawl closer and lean down, our noses almost touching. His eyes darken dramatically and he wets his lips. "Katniss?" He continues.

_Do it. _I think to myself._ Do it before you chicken out. If he rejects you, at least you'll know how he feels._

And then, summoning all my courage, I press my lips to his.

He's surprised, that's for sure. For a few long seconds, I'm worried that he's never going to react, but then he pushes himself upright, guiding me downwards onto the mattress in turn so he's hovering above me. A groan escapes his lips as I open my mouth, and I smile into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt, twisting it in my hands. He

Eventually I push him away, leaving him panting and wide-eyed and grinning like an idiot.

"What was that for?" He asks.

"You better get me a damn good present." I laugh, pushing him away, climbing off the bed and heading for the doorway.

"It hurts!" Peeta says, clutching dramatically at his heart.

"Shut up." I grin, disappearing downstairs. I'm gone before Peeta comes downstairs, heading straight for the Seam. It's still fairly early in the morning so I head for the forest first. Icy air bites at my skin, and I blow on my hands and rub them together to keep them warm.

* * *

Sliding under the fence, I find myself relaxing under the cover of the trees. I find my bow and quiver filled with feather—tipped arrows and pull it over my shoulder. My boots crunch over the frozen leaves beneath me, and I hide behind an oak tree, the distorted bark rough against my back. I listen intently as I wait, watching out for the distinctive cooing sound of the groosling. They stay in District 12 all through the year, their feathers turning white when it snows, and blending back to dappled brown when the forest comes back to life. But, despite their camouflage, they are dumb creatures. They're noisy, clunky and absolutely delicious. Not as good as turkey or chicken or any other better cuts of meat you can see hanging by hooks in the butcher's shop, but good enough to eat. I wish I could shoot a turkey.

And then I hear it. The sound of clucking. And it isn't a groosling.

_Turkey._

Positioning my feet, I peek around the side of the tree and find, to my delight, a single, lost-looking turkey. It shouldn't be here. Not at this time of year. As I watch it closely, I see that it is twitching its head around, erratic, unsure movements that suggest that it cannot see. Pecking at the ground, it ruffles its feathers against the cold. It's a fairly young bird, with soft downy feathers peeking out from under the coarse coat above. Nice and plump. Perfect for roasting. My stomach rumbles at the thought. I probably should've eaten breakfast before heading out.

Slowly and surely, I pull out an arrow and notch it into place, a familiar and practiced notion, and take my aim. The arrow soars through the air and lands on target, through the right eye socket, piercing the brain. A quick and painless death. I walk over to my kill and snap its neck, watching the legs and wings flap and tremble. I pick up the bird and begin my journey back to the Seam.

"Katniss!" Mom cries, pulling door open even wider and tugging me by the elbow into the house. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me you went hunting all by yourself. I can't believe Peeta let you out!" She grimaces, takes the turkey and dumps it on the kitchen table before pouring me a steaming cup of tea, all the while continuing to babble. "What is you had slipped an hurt yourself? Peeta would be distraught! Prim is ever so excited to be an Aunt, and you don't want to hurt the baby. And why on earth have you shot a turkey?"

"Hey, Mom." I smile. My mother sits down with a huff.

"Sorry, dear. I'm just a little stressed at the moment." She says.

"I can see that."

"How are you?"

"I'm well, thanks. Everything is great." I wrap my hands around my cup of tea.

"And how about Peeta?"

"What about Peeta?"

"Is he okay? Coping?"

"Peeta is fine. Working his ass off. Falls asleep the minute his head hits the pillow most nights." I take a sip of the tea.

"But you two are getting on alright, aren't you? No fighting? No arguments?"

"Not at all," I shake my head. "At first, I'll admit, I was worried that it would be weird and awkward… but he's so kind. He makes it feel like home. He makes me feel safe a secure." I look up to find Mom staring at me with kind eyes.

"What?"

"I remember," Mom begins, reaching across the table to take my hand. "When a very scared, but _very _determined girl told me that she didn't think that she'd ever be able to love the child growing inside her, or the man who had promised to marry her…"

"Mom." I mumble.

"And I told her that she would love both of them. No matter how long it took, you would let them into your heart. Looking at that same girl, I can tell that she's fond of her baby, _and_ of her fiancé." I blush, thinking of the heated kiss Peeta and I shared just over an hour ago.

I take another sip of tea to calm myself. "What does love feel like?"

"Now, that _is _a question," She raises her eyebrows. "Love is a complicated thing. It has good days and bad days, and can cause you the greatest joy or the coldest pain you'll ever feel, but love is a good thing," Mom squeezes my hand. "My mother -your Grandma- always said to me that you know you're in love when you can't fall asleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams, and not the other way round."

"My feelings towards Peeta are… confusing. Sometimes I feel like he's just my friend, but most of the time I feel closer to him like that."

"What else?" Mom encourages me to continue talking.

"As long as he's there, I'd be happy in both dream and nightmares. I sleep better when he is there. A few nights ago I woke up and he was in the bathroom. Because he wasn't there, I couldn't sleep," A soft blush creeps over my cheeks. "He makes me feel _good._"

"How does he make you feel good?" Mom asks, arching one eyebrow.

"Not like that." I stammer.

"Really?"

"No."

"It's completely safe to have sex, right up to the end of your pregnancy." My mother advises wisely. I pull my hand away from her grip and lean back in my seat.

"It isn't like that," I say. "I mean, we've kissed, but nothing else."

"Do you want to do more?"

"I came here to visit my mother and sister. Not to be interrogated about my non-existent sex life." I growl. Mom smirks.

"At least you don't have to worry about protection."

"Mom!" I exclaim. "Really?"

"I'm your mother. It's my duty to find these things out and then embarrass you."

"Is Prim here?" I ask, my voice high as I try to change the subject. I'm sure that my twelve-year-old sister won't interrogate me like this.

"We all know what happened last time you had sex, Katniss. Be cautious." Mom says.

"I can take back that invitation to Christmas, you know." I cry, exasperated.

"I'm here if you want to talk."

"Prim!" I call, leaving the room.

Prim throws her arms around me when she sees me from the Lady's pen at the bottom of the tiny plot of land behind our house that serves as our garden.

"I missed you!" She says.

"I missed you too, Little Duck," I say fondly. "You aren't getting too cold at night are you?"

"It's alright. I sleep next to Mom now. We use the blankets and pillows and sheets from our old bed to make it really cosy."

"I'm glad." I say, smoothing her golden locks.

"I bet Peeta is warm." Prim mumbles.

"What?"

"At night? Do you snuggle up to him?" Prim giggles.

"It gets cold." I shrug.

"I bet you kiss all the time as well." My sister makes kissing noises and purses her lips.

"That's it, none of you are coming on Christmas Day." I sigh, covering my eyes. Prim smiles up at me and then frowns.

"Rory told me- yesterday evening- that they aren't going to go to your house for Christmas. Apparently Gale was yelling all night. His Mom threatened to ground him and he told her that he was an adult and he could do what he wanted and then he told everyone that they weren't going to your house."

"Are you sure?" I ask, my heart sinking.

"Yup. Rory said it was okay though. He didn't want to walk all that way."

I roll my eyes. "I'll have to stop by and say Merry Christmas."

Prim dashes off to drag Lady back into her pen, playfully scolding the goat for running away. I sit down on the porch steps, resting my feet, and get lost in my own thoughts.

Although it felt great to confess my confusion and apparent feelings for Peeta, lifting a heavy weight from my shoulders, it has also dredged up the thoughts about Gale and _his _feelings from the darkest recesses of my mind. I tried so desperately to hide them. To forget. But clearly that isn't going to happen. My main fear is the friendship Gale and I have built up is going to come crumbling down. And even if we do manage to stay friends, it will be on shaky and uncertain ground that will be difficult to traverse.

Everdeen/Hawthorne Christmases are things I've come accustomed to. Gale's father and mine were best friends, and ever since I can remember, we've spent Christmas Day with each other, eating hearty food, laughing and dancing and singing and having a good time. In an effort to hang on to the traditions my father held so dear, and in a way to preserve his memory even more, I invited Gale and his family for dinner. This revelation sickens me. I was -and am- trying to hold onto my past. I invited the Hawthorne's not only because I didn't want them to be alone on Christmas Day, but because I wanted to stay in the past.

It's this truth that makes me sad. As much as I would like to move into the future without regrets, I know that this can't be possible.

I spend a little more time at my old home, chatting with Mom and my sister, reminding them to come round on Christmas Day, and head back home with a bag filled with turkey feathers and a plucked turkey in my hand, trying to ignore the feeling of sadness that pulls at my mind, creeping deep inside me.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I push the front door open, the sun sinking below the mountains, hang up my coat, and position my boots by the wall.

"Katniss?" I call. "You here?"

"I'm in the kitchen." Katniss' voice replies quietly. A frown works it's way onto my lips- something is off. I walk into the kitchen and find my fiancé leaning against the countertop, staring down at the floor, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Hey, are you alright?" I ask, putting the paper bag filled with cookies from the bakery onto the table. "Katniss?" I repeat, stepping closer and placing my hands on her upper arms. She collapses against me, falling into my chest, bursting into tears. Alarmed, I pull her closer and rub her back in what I hope is a soothing motion.

"I c-can't do this, P-Peeta," She sobs. "I can't do any of this!"

"What can't you do?" I ask, resting my head on her shoulder.

"_This!_" She cries, soaking my shirt. "I can't be a mother. Or a wife. I can't even get a grip and confront my feelings."

"Did Gale say something to you?" I ask carefully.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"So he did say something."

"Peeta, I'm sixteen. This time last y-year I was worrying about whether we would have e-enough food to last the winter. If we had enough c-coal," Katniss gasps. Not about raising a _fucking b-baby_!" She swallows, stepping back away from me and holding her head in her hands. "I can't do this. I j-just can't. No no n-no. This is too much!" She shakes her head, fat tears falling from her wide grey eyes. My heart breaks.

"Listen to me," I begin. Katniss looks up, chewing her thumb, tears dripping down to the line of her jaw. "I'm here. I will help. It's my duty as the father of this child to care for you and protect you and I'm never going to abandon you, okay?"

"Peeta, you don't understand…" Katniss shakes.

"You aren't alone. I'm scared too, terrified of trying to make this work. But I promise to be your husband and the best father I can possibly be," My heart is hammering against my ribcage as I step closer to Katniss. "Please don't think that I will never be there."

"I'm so scared." Katniss whispers.

"Me too," I chuckle, bending down and wiping away her tears. "But at least we have each other."

"What if we can't look after it?" Katniss asks.

"That isn't an option, alright?" I tell her, my voice soft and steady.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been so sure about anything in my entire life." I grin. Katniss smiles weakly.

"I don't love Gale," Katniss confesses. "Not like I love you or Prim or Mom."

"I don't love Gale either."

"Phew."

"But, seriously, I know you're scared and confused and concerned about what the future may bring, but you can't let anything or any_one _stop you from doing what you see as right."

"Tell me that we'll be okay?"

"We'll be okay."

"Thank you."

"Besides, you're Katniss Everdeen. You don't let anything stop you," I say, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and pulling her towards me. She wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head on my chest. "So why should something like this stop you now?"

"A baby isn't a little something, Peeta. You know that."

"I do know that, but I also know you. I have faith in you, Katniss. You'd start a war- a rebellion- against Panem itself. You'd shoot an arrow at President Snow, even, just to keep those you love safe."

"You can't say that."

"I just did."

"My Dad would've been so disappointed in me," Katniss murmurs. "I can picture his face. If he hadn't died. If we had to tell him as well."

"Cripes."

"He would've kicked your ass," Katniss giggles. "And given me a lecture of the proper use of protection, and how sex and alcohol shouldn't mix."

"My Dad has already given me that talk. A little overdue, but there nevertheless."

"How disappointed was he?" Katniss asks. "When you told him?"

"I could see that he was shocked and disappointed with me," I say, instantly catapulted back to that fateful day so many months ago when Katniss told me, Mom dragging through the district, ending up with me yelling and crying and feeling like the worse person to have ever walked the world. "I guess he thought, well, _everyone _thought that Rye would be the one to get us in trouble, and when he found out that it was me? I thought he was going to faint in surprise. Mom was angry. I yelled at her."

"Why?" Katniss asks.

"She was calling you names. I couldn't handle all the emotions and just…snapped."

"Is your Dad okay now?"

"He's going to have a breakdown. He can't believe that he's going to be a grandfather."

"Does he hate me?" Katniss asks.

"Of course not," I say, looking down at her. "Katniss, he adores you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Prim loves you, and so does my Mom."

"She gives me weird looks."

"Prim?"

"No, your mother."

"She's probably trying to figure you out. Even though she kinda…disappeared after Dad died, she is still there. She does care." I smile.

"Let's make a vow, to each other and our baby." I suggest.

"A vow?" Katniss questions.

"Not a marriage vow," I muse. "Just a promise about life."

"Okay. What is it?" Katniss asks, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"We've both had problems in the past, regarding our parents. And we haven't been left unaffected by it, so lets promise to always be there not only for each other, but for the baby. Lets promise to always be there, and never stop loving him or her." Katniss smiles, her eyes filled with a sad happiness.

"That was beautiful." She smiles.

"Not as beautiful as you are."

Katniss blushes, wetting her lips. "So you do love the baby?"

"Yes. Didn't you know that?"

"I don't know."

"I love him or her already, Katniss. Unconditionally."

"Then I promise to always love our child and be there for him or her." Katniss smiles.

"I second that vote." I chuckle lightly.

"Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome. Thank you for not hating me completely."

"I couldn't hate you. You're too good."

"Don't cry, Katniss. Please don't. But if you really have to, come to me first and I'll help you."

"Same with me."

"Good?"

"Good." Katniss whispers, kissing me slowly. I run my hands up her sides, cupping her face gently. She touches her tongue to my mine, encouraging me to deepen the kiss. I gladly do so, lifting her up onto the counter top. After a few heated moments, I pull away and kiss her neck, sucking softly on the soft skin by her ear. Her sharp intake of breathe makes me smirk.

"I'll leave a mark if we're not careful."

"That's tacky," Katniss grumbles. I laugh and kiss her again, all over her face, kissing away her tears. "Right at the start of this mess, I asked my Mom, if I would ever be able to love the baby. If I would ever love you." Katniss reveals, not meeting my eyes, staring at my ear as she runs her hands through my hair nervously. I swallow. Where is this going?

"And?" I prompt.

Katniss inhales shakily. "And today she reminded me of it. She said that she thought that I was already beginning to love both of them."

"She did?" I ask.

For a very long time Katniss is silent. I can almost hear the cogs in her head turning at a hundred miles an hour. The only sound that can be heard is our breathing, a bird outside, and the repetitive ticking of the clock on the wall.

"She did," Katniss breaks the silence. "And I asked her what love… felt like."

"What did she say?"

"She said that _love…_ that you know you're in love when you can't fall asleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams, and not the other way round."

"Wise words."

"And I told her that I didn't mind if I was awake or asleep, because I had you to catch me."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I love our baby. And I think I could possibly be falling in love…with you." Katniss whispers, so quietly that I can barely hear her. But as those words fall from her lips –_Katniss Everdeen's _lips- my heart swells in my chest, and electricity courses through me, red-hot and tingly.

"Oh." I breathe. Katniss looks up at me, her eyes wide. She looks scared.

"Please say something else," She begs. "Because I never thought that I would ever be able to love someone like I love you. A Merchant, nonetheless. Peeta Mellark, the boy who has saved me too many times. It's been hanging over me like a cloud for so long, and I didn't know what to do or how to deal with it and deep down I'm still frightened. So please, Peeta. Say something."

Is this _really _happening?

Has Katniss Everdeen just told me that she may be falling in love with me?

Or am I going to wake up any second now, sweating and desperately needing a cold shower?

"Am I dreaming?" I ask.

"Shut up, dummy." Katniss laughs.

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves.

"I've loved you for too long," I murmur, tracing patterns over her skin. My pulse is loud in my ears. "And I think that it's good for us to admit any feelings we have for each other. You say you _think _that you are in love with me, but I _know_. For a fact."

"I hope that I'll keep falling." Katniss smiles.

"I'll be there to catch you."

"Always?" Katniss asks. "Can you promise me that?"

"Always." I promise. And then Katniss kisses me again, slowly and gently- almost as if she's nervous, as if this were her first kiss- but with an underlying tension. Fire spreads through my limbs as she kisses me even more, whimpering into my mouth.

"You love me?" Katniss asks.

"I love you." I grin.

"I love your cooking."

"Is that a subtle hint?" I laugh.

"It's meant to be."

"Lets eat and then sleep." I suggest.

"I like that plan very much."

"Me too, Katniss. Me too." I agree, kissing her nose.


	33. Chapter 33: Progress

Again, thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites for this story! It means so much :) I had to get my laptop fixed after my cat stood on the keys and got the 'a' button stuck, so if there are any weird mistakes, you can blame my cat :3 This is my first time for a long time at writing anything worthy of the 'm' rating, so I'm pretty anxious. Hopefully I've done okay.

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Damn it. Gale was right.

Peeta _does_ love me.

I don't know why I'm feeling so sad about this whole situation. But as I crouch in front of the fire, pushing around the glowing embers and trying to get the second log I've added to catch alight, I find myself with a sad smile on my lips. I lay the table, taking my time to line-up the cutlery perfectly straight along side the plates and placing a small beeswax candle in the center and lighting it. Letting out a sigh, I sit down at the table, resting my hands on my stomach and closing my eyes, sinking into the depths of my thoughts.

Peeta told me that he would be the one to cook, that he wanted to do it by himself, and let me put my feet up. I rub my eyes, fighting a yawn, a wave of tiredness flooding over me. Although I've been having a lot of good nights lately because Peeta is there, I have also found myself getting tired much quicker than I used to. It must be the baby's fault. It's zapping my energy, leaving me tired and achy. The thought of what it's going to be like when I'm eight or nine months, belly swollen to a ridiculous size, left waddling around the district like a great lump- unable to go hunting or climbing or even get under the small gap under the fence.

I can remember what Hazelle was like when she was pregnant with Posy. Mom would bring round ointments and salves and herbs that were meant to help ease the aches and pains of carrying a child, running a household, and looking after three other children, though I don't think they ever actually helped. Hazelle would still walk around with purple shadows under her eyes, rubbing her back whenever she stopped moving, and talking about how much she wanted 'this damn thing' out of her body.

And then her beloved husband died.

Mr Hawthorne never got to see his daughter- he never even _knew_ that he had finally gotten to little girl he had always wanted.

Hazelle regretted wishing that she wanted her baby to be born. We all knew that she wanted to keep it inside, where it was safe and warm and free from the sadness that reality brought along.

All this time has allowed a whole load of emotions to build up inside of me. I cried- I _bawled_. And in front of Peeta. I kept my fears and doubts and worries build up without confiding with anyone until I was ready to burst. All those stupid, unnecessary barriers that have kept me closed off from everyone have finally crumbled under the pressure and stress of getting pregnant, getting proposed to and moving in with none other than the baker's son. Never in a million years would I have guessed that this would end up being my future.

Peeta was strong as usual. He told me that he would always be there. He made a promise to me _and _the baby, which is more than I ever could have asked for. Before my father died, my life was happy. Despite the miserable state of poverty I lived in, I had a loving family. A good life where my father would sing to me every day, and my mother would braid my hair and make little paper dolls for me to play with. After he passed away, things became bad. Mom, drowning under the heavy cloak of grief, became isolated in her own mind, leaving Prim and I to fend by ourselves. Death scratched at our ankles, beckoning us with the sweet promise of a pain-free existence. But it was the thought of getting stuck in an in-between state- a limbo filled with happy dreams that could not hurt us- that terrified me the most. I didn't want that, despite the idea of peace, and that kept me going. Kept me surviving. Stopped me from living.

For too long I was focusing on Prim, and never gave a second thought about myself. I can't imagine how I looked to people on the outside who didn't understand how hard it was without my parents. I must have looked like such a stuck-up person, who never had the decency to accept help when people were simply being kind.

Peeta is the bright shining light on the horizon, hiding for all this time, and then coming out to save me. What would've happened if he had never come into my life? Would I have sunk lower and lower into my own little bubble, and become unable to communicate with anyone but my wrecked family and limited friends?

Of course I would like to say that that would never had happened, but I find that it's better to think of Peeta and our baby as my saviours.

"Bon appétit." Peeta murmurs, placing a bowl on top of the plates I've set out. A thick, creamy soup sits in front of me, the steam rising steadily along with the intoxicating scent of the meal.

"What is this?" I ask, inhaling deeply.

"Carrot and potato soup," Peeta tells me sitting down opposite and smiling. "My Dad always gave it to me when I wasn't feeling good." He adds.

"Not chicken soup?" I ask.

"Nope. Never chicken soup."

"But chicken soup is what you're meant to eat when you're ill. Not… carrot and potato soup." I dip my spoon into the soup and take a sip.

"But it's nice, so that's what matters." Peeta grins. I roll my eyes.

"Well, I'm not ill… so why are you giving me the soup you were given when you unwell as a child?" I ask.

"Because it's to make you feel better, whether you're ill or just having a bad day."

"A bad life more like…" I mutter. Peeta throws the crust of his bread at me.

"I'm not that bad am I?"

"Not you, asshole."

"Charming."

"Thanks." I smile down at my meal and continue eating. Peeta tells me about the bakery as we eat, and I find myself sitting there, engrossed with what he's saying. His eyes light up when he speaks, motioning with his hands. He lists countless recipes, types of bread that go better with cheese than anything else, and which icing compliments which types of fruitcake.

"Sorry, I guess this is kinda overwhelming." He blushes after a good hour of speaking.

"No, I don't mind."

"But I've been talking continuously for ages. Don't you want to say anything?"

"Not really. It's interesting. I don't know much about you."

"You knew when my birthday was. Remember? Back at school?"

"I know…" I say, my cheeks growing pink.

"How did you know?" Peeta asks, leaning forward on his hands.

"I, uh… when I came to the bakery once. To buy cookies. Your Dad came to the back door with a paper party hat on his head. It was blue and patched up with tape." I look up. Peeta chuckles, stretching his arms up in the air above his head.

"That was my twelfth birthday," He says. "Dad insisted on party hats, even though Mom said it was too expensive for how silly it was. She tried to pull it off his head and it ripped so she got some tape and put it back together again. Mom got in a mood and smashed a vase, but it was worth having party hats."

"Did you ever have a birthday party?" I ask. Before then? Or after?"

"I had parties- just with the family- until I was twelve. And then I decided that it was babyish to celebrate with cake and hats."

"Why wouldn't you want cake?" I grin.

"Oh, I don't mind the cake part." Peeta laughs, taking a gulp from the bottle of apple cider. I'm humbled to find that it's from Ripper, down in the Hob. When did he go to the Hob?

"I'm not surprised."

"What about you?" Peeta asks, running his hand through his hair. I desperately want to do it myself.

"I guess you could call it a party. The Hawthornes would come over and we'd eat some food and I would get a new pair of gloves or another set of arrows from Dad..." I trail off, reminiscing in the moment. "They would sing. And that was it," I look up from the table. "It probably sounds stupid. It doesn't matter."

I stand and clear up the plates, intending to wash up and forget that I'd let myself think of my father's skilled hands. He could make perfectly balanced, perfectly shaped arrows in what seemed like a matter of minutes. We would go scavenging in the forest for the straightest sapling branches we could find, cut them down, and then roll them until the bark came of easily.

'_Like peeling an orange, Kitty.' _Dad would chuckle. '_Nice and slow, gentle so it doesn't damage the wood.'_

And then we'd take our bounty out onto the front porch steps. Mom and Prim would use the bark to make fragrant teas and medicines, and Dad and I would let the sun warm our skin as we shaped the wood into arrows.

Suddenly I'm overcome with emotion, and I swallow a sob and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. It was a bad idea to think so much about my Dad. Of course, I try to save his memory, but sometimes it's just too painful. And thinking about birthdays- a subject that should be happy- has made me sad again.

"It isn't stupid. And it does matter. To me it does." Peeta says. I let out a deep sigh.

"I just get... you know... upset when i think about him."

"Katniss, I understand."

"How can you understand?" I ask, exasperated. "Who have you lost?" I turn and shove him. He closes his eyes and flexes his fingers. "_You don't know._" I whisper, venom creeping in to my tone without me wanting it to.

"My cousin died when she was eight. I was nine. We were best friends. So, _yes, _I have felt the pain of losing someone who is close to you." Peeta says, smiling ruefully down at me.

I stop, my shoulders slumping. "Peeta, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shove you or anything. I didn't know," I pause, feeling like the worse possible person in the world. All he was doing was being nice to me, and I threw it all back into his face. "I just got upset. I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't."

"No, I'm sorry." I say, stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around him. He is still for a moment, unresponsive, but then hugs me back.

"I'm sorry."

"We're all sorry, but it isn't like we can change it."

"Live in the moment."

"Exactly." I smile. Peeta puts a finger under my chin and lifts my face to his, pressing his lips to mine.

Instantly, as if by magic, all the tension and sadness and frustration is gone. The feeling of Peeta's lips against mine is intoxicating, pulling me in, dragging me along like a rip tide. But I'm not struggling to be free. I want more. I want to be with Peeta because I know that he loves me and I might be in love with him and I know that he will always be there because he promised. Promises shouldn't be broken. You should keep your side of the deal. No matter what.

I can only hope than I'll be able to stick to my own words in the future.

Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.

Peeta's tongue probing against my lips startles me, but I open my mouth nevertheless, inviting him in. I stretch upwards to wrap my arms around his neck, gasping when he presses kisses down my neck. I arch it, tilting my head backwards to give him more access.

"Forget the dishes. I want to go upstairs." I whisper. Peeta pulls back , eyes wide, chest heaving.

"What?"

"I think you want to as well, Peeta." I say, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but kisses my knuckles and moves towards the staircase. I follow, my heart pounding rapidly in the cavity of my chest.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

My pants are getting too tight. As much as I want to relief myself, preferably with Katniss' help, I do not want that. Yet. I doubt she wants to go anywhere near the idea of me and her and sex. Taking into account what happened last time, I'm surprised that she has slept in the same _room _as me, let alone kissed me.

But I've told her how I feel now, and she says that she could be falling in love with me too. This is like a dream come true. All these years of falling deeper and deeper into love with the grey-eyed, dark-haired _goddess _who traded at my back door. I would hide around the corner, peeking my head around the doorway to the kitchen, seeing her boots and hearing her musical voice behind my father. Dad, ever observant, realised that his youngest son had fallen in love- promptly deciding that, at the age of thirteen, he would be able to pass the 'trading with Katniss' duty on. I can remember the first time I traded with her, as clear as day.

* * *

'_No no no. Dad, I can't do this!' I whisper, shaking my head vigorously. 'What if I mess it up or talk too much or act just plain weird?'_

'_Peeta, listen,' Dad says, patting my shoulder. 'You'll be fine. She's shy, that's for sure, but once you get her talking you'll be fine.'_

'_But what if I can't get her to talk?'_

'_Ask her about the weather,' He suggests. 'It's a normal thing to talk about.'_

'_Yeah, for boring people!' I say, standing up. 'Talking about the _weather_? That's lame.'_

'_It's worked for me,' Dad chuckles. 'Are you calling me boring?'_

'_No, it's just...' I trail off when there's a short, sharp knock at the door. I freeze. Dad smiles at me and leaves the room before I can duck out before him. For a moment I just stand there, palms sweaty, dumbfounded._

_What do I do now?_

_Answer the door. That would be a good place to start._

_I walk to the door and look through the little glass square positioned in the middle of the door. Just the sight of her sends shivers down my spine. I admire the way her hair shines, the curve of her nose. And then she looks up, staring straight into the peephole. Her grey eyes are so wide. It surprises me and I stumble backwards, heart pounding. She knocks on the door again._

_Oh yeah. Answer the door._

_Taking a deep breath, I run my hand through my hair and pull the door open._

'_Sorry for the wait-'_

'_I've got squirrel-'_

_We both pause, embarrassed at speaking at the same time. She takes a wary step back, scrutinizing me. _

'_Is your father there?' She asks, her brow knitted together._

'_He's with a customer. He asked me to take care of you... of the squirrel!' I correct myself. 'Not you, the squirrel.' I look down at my boots. Shit. _

'_I understand.' She tells me. My head snaps up. She looks amused._

'_Come in, uh. Put the squirrels here.' I instruct, clearing my throat and laying some grease paper onto the countertop. Katniss steps inside, pulls two squirrels from the ratty bag over her shoulder and lays them down._

'_The rate is usual a loaf for two.' She says._

_But I'm still staring at the carcasses sitting beside me. 'How the hell did you kill them?'_

'_You aren't squeamish are you?' She asks. I meet her gaze. She arches an eyebrow. I swallow._

'_No. Not at all. It's just that there's no blood on it.'_

'_I drained it in the woods.' She says, her voice in a tone of not only amusement, but as if I've just been asking stupidly obvious questions. Damn it, I probably have._

'_Oh.'_

'_Yeah.'_

'_I know that it's a loaf per squirrel,' I say. She scowls. 'Why wouldn't you want the actual pay?' _

''_Cause I don't need it. And neither does Prim or Mom.' She says resolutely, curling her bony hand into a fist by her side._

'_I know you don't. It's just the standard trade and I think you should take it.' I shrug, pulling two freshly baked loafs into a paper bag, making sure they're the biggest ones. Katniss says nothing. I watch a bead of sweat roll down her temple. It's the middle of summer, and she's been chasing squirrels in the heat. Her shirt is sticking to her. Why haven't I offered her a drink?_

_She's staring at the pitcher of ice cold water sitting beside the basin of ice cubes, licking her chapped lips. I tip some cubes into a glass and fill it with water, offering it to her with a smile._

'_No thanks.'_

'_Take it.'_

'_I said, no thanks.'_

'_And I said take it.' I counter. She takes the glass. _

'_Thanks.' She forces the word out._

'_It's only water,' I say. 'It's Prim's birthday today, isn't it?' I add softly. I can practically hear the muscles in her back tensing up at my words._

'_How did you know that?'_

'_Your Dad. He used to bring her here for a cupcake.'_

'_With a Primrose flower on it." Katniss says, staring at something over my shoulder, lost in thought. I feel guilty for bringing up her father. He died two years ago, but the aftershocks are still rippling through the remainders of the Everdeen family. With Katniss not paying attention to what I am doing, I grab the nearest bag of icing and ice the letter 'p' onto a cupcake, along with a tiny flower. If I had the time, the cake would've been lavishly decorated. But this is alright for a ten second job. I slip it into the bag._

'_Here you are. Thanks for the squirrel.' I say, turning to face her. She has her hand in the glass, fingers stretching to reach an ice cube. She tips the glass upside down, catches the cube and shoves it into her mouth. I laugh. Her cheeks are puffed out like a hamster. She blushes._

'_Sowwy.' She mumbles, her mouth filled with cubes. I take the glass._

'_S'Alright.' I grin. She takes the bag, murmurs her thanks, and ducks out of the kitchen. _

'_See, that went okay, didn't it?' Dad asks, popping into the room. I nod._

'_Were you hiding there the entire time?' I ask. Dad pulls a face and wraps up the squirrel._

'_You never know when you'll need a wingman.' He chuckles._

* * *

I'd always had a crush on her, but that was the moment when I realised that I was actually _in love _with her. While all the other boys in town and out in the Seam were dating their 'own kind', whether it be skinny, dark-haired, dark-skinned girls or blonde, busty, townies, I was pining after the toughest girl in Panem. She was- and is- a hard nut to crack, but once you break through her sturdy exterior, she's a person you can't help but love. She wound her way right into my heart and stayed there.

Katniss and I change into our pyjamas quickly and quietly, but the room is filled with tension. I climb into bed and she lies beside me. After a few long seconds, I begin to wonder if she has fallen asleep or is simply waiting for me to make the first move. I'm about to open my mouth and say her name when she mutters: _Fuck it _and pulls my chin down so her lips collide with mine. I eagerly comply with her movements resting my hand on her waist.

How far does she want to go with this? Is she going to go far at all? I find myself beginning to worry too much, and Katniss pulls away, concerned.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks, her chest heaving. I blink, looking down at her. "Don't you want to?"

"No, I was just a little surprised." I smirk. She blushes.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry," I grin, leaning down to kiss her again. Testing our boundaries to the very limit (the apple cider is apparently a little stronger than it says on the bottle), I lift her up in one smooth motion, depositing her so she's sitting on me. "Is this okay?" I ask, rubbing her back in soothing motions.

"Yes," She says, kissing me again. Her movements and the positioning of her hips on my mine make me groan, and she rolls her hips again. "Is _this _okay?" She teases between kisses, her voice low and seductive.

"Yes." I reply.

Our kisses get slower and hotter as time passes, and I move my hands further down, resting them on her hips, and then on her slim thighs. The feel of her smooth skin under my hands is dizzying. I flip her over onto her back, never breaking the kiss, and prop myself up on my hands so I don't press against her stomach. She opens her legs wider, and I lie in the cradle of her thighs. She whimpers at the contact, and I snake my hand under her shirt, feeling her stomach as she moves.

"Is this okay?" I ask.

"Higher." She murmurs.

"Really?" I ask, unsure. She nods, guiding my hand further up until my hand is resting over the swell of her breast. I swear, I could bust a nut in my pants right here and right now.

"Peeta!" She gasps, her eyes wide. I press kisses down her neck, before latching on to the sensitive skin on her collarbone. I squeeze her breast, rolling her nipple in my fingers, and her mouth makes an 'o' shape as she presses her chest upright. She scrabbles desperately at my shirt, and I let her yank it off. Her hands map the contours of my chest and back, and when I grind my hips down on hers, her fingernails dig into my skin, causing me to hiss.

"Fuck." I mutter.

"Take my shirt off." Katniss whispers. I can see how flushed she is, even in the darkness of the room.

"What?" I ask, bewildered. The girl of my dreams is telling me to take her top off.

"Don't like you don't want to," She smirks. "And you're topless too."

"That's different."

"Fine, keep my shirt on." She challenges. My cock strains in my pants, begging me to do as my fiancé is asking. I pull her shirt off, she lifts her arms to make it an easier process, and I gape at her half-naked form.

"They've got bigger." I say. Katniss snorts, laughing hysterically. I blush, stammering incessantly. _For fuck sake, Mellark. Get your shit together. 'They've got bigger'? Classy. _

"I know." Katniss says, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she stares up at me.

"Sorry. I can't believe I just said that." I say, wishing for the floor to swallow me up.

"It's the baby's fault," Katniss says. "I've gone up two cup sizes already."

"Oh."

"They'll get bigger, that's for sure." Katniss tells me. I swallow. Shit.

"Okay."

"That isn't a problem, is it?" She asks.

"Uh, no. Not at all." I say. Katniss kisses me again, but I pull away, kissing down over her chest, sucking on her hardened peaks. She mewls, combing her fingers through my hair, and arches her back as she comes.

"You alright?" I chuckle, pressing kisses over her face as she pants.

"Yes," She gasps. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"I have two older brothers... and considering their presents, I guess you can assume that they're the ones to tell me all this." I admit.

"Would it be weird to say that I'm grateful?" Katniss wrinkles her nose. I laugh.

"Just thank me."

"Shut up." She says, her hands creeping closer to my groin.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to return the favour."

"No, Katniss... You don't have to..." I say, but she continues to slide my loose sleep pants down. And I'm not trying to stop her.

"I _want _to." She whispers into my ear, tugging my earlobe between her teeth.

"Shit, Katniss." I moan.

"And I'm sure you can tell me what to do." She adds. Her cold feet push my trousers down the rest of the way, and kick them off. She pushes me back onto the bed, crawling between my legs.

"W-wait, Katniss, do you know what you are..." I trail off when her small hand wraps around me. She seems unfazed by it, and moves her hand up and down eagerly, her breasts swaying slightly.

"What do you like, Peeta?" She murmurs, and my head falls back against the pillows. I stare at the ceiling.

"Like this." I say, tightening her grip. She picks up on my whispers quickly, and just when I think it couldn't get any better, she licks the tip. I tilt my head forward just in time to see my cock disappearing deeper in her mouth. The feeling of her mouth around me is like heaven, and a groan resonates from deep in my chest. Despite my desperate attempts at trying to stop my hips from bucking upwards, I find myself thrusting into her mouth. She allows it, and I come quickly. She swallows it, and then licks her lips, crawling up to lie on top of me.

"Was that okay?" She asks softly. I wrap my arms around her.

"More than okay. That was... astronomical." I say. Katniss laughs quietly, closing her eyes.

"It was amazing on my part too. Thank you."

"Thank _you._" I say, kissing her forehead and pulling up the covers around us.

"Why did you do it?" She asks.

"You didn't seem to mind," I say, causing her to duck her head and hide her face against my bare chest. "No, I just wanted to make you feel good."

"You make me feel good regardless."

"You and Gale... you never did this, did you?"

"Hell no," She shakes her head. "I'm glad that you were my first, even though you got me pregnant."

"Woops."

"Yeah, _woops,_" She rolls her eyes. "But Gale and I were never like that. Doing this with him would feel weird. With you I feel safe."

"Thank you." I repeat.

"What for?"

"For saying that. For being you."

"You're welcome?" Katniss suggests, resting her chin on my chest and looking up at me, tracing patterns over my skin.

"No regrets?" I ask quietly.

"Not yet," She says. "But we'll have to wait till morning."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes. My behaviour may just be hormones."

"Let's hope it isn't." I say, not intending her to hear.

"I heard that, Lover Boy." She says, poking my side.

Okay.

Maybe not.


	34. Chapter 34: Snow worries

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews, follow and favourites! :) The guest who had quoted 'Lets Talk About Sex' in their review made me laugh, so thanks ;) What does WritingForHugs do on her birthday? Update her fanfic, of course...**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

When I wake up, Peeta is still asleep beside me, lying on his stomach, one arm under his pillow. The sheets are scrunched up around us, just low enough to show that my fiancé is naked. And all I have on is my loose sleep pants. Red-hot and burning, embarrassment floods through me. I gather the sheets, pressing them to my chest to hide myself, staring at the wall.

Last night felt good. I think it was good, not only for me, but for Peeta as well. Now that our true feelings have been put out there, it makes us fragile and vulnerable to each other. We are hiding fewer things from each other, opening up a little- _a lot- _and living with each other in a state of coexistence that is not only peaceful, but comforting. Home to me is still the Seam. It's still the house that my father built with his own hands, it's still the forest. That will never change, I am sure. But why can't I have two homes? Whilst the Seam holds the most memories, good and bad, this house with Peeta seems to hold the most hope. I think that I can live with that.

However, I do think that I might have gone a little too far last night. One minute I was arguing with him for no good reason, then I shoved him, and then I was making out with him. _Instructing _him to remove my shirt, and enjoying the consequences.

He didn't seem to mind. Not one bit.

My cheeks flush. I feel happy. Happier than I have in a long, long time. Fighting the large grin that worms its way onto my face is useless, and I even let out a content little giggle. This is not what I would usually do. This is not me. Well, it isn't the _old _me, at least. May be it's a good thing- I've been stuck in a loop for too long, focused on Prim. Focused on survival. Ignoring trivial things like _boys _and _relationships _and _the future. _I preferred to take each day as it came, and not think too much about how dreary my future was looking to be. Sitting here, beside Peeta's sleeping form, I struggle to come to terms with how quickly everything has happened.

In just a few shorts months, I've been paired with the youngest Mellark, partied with the youngest Mellark, had sex with the youngest Mellark, and ended up engaged and pregnant. All because of the youngest Mellark. And now I'm sitting in a Merchant standard bed, beside a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, prodigy townie. It's laughable; really, how quickly things can change.

Life is like a game. One wrong move and you'll end up in a tailspin, flung across the board, trying to hold on to not only your head, but anything that will anchor you to solid ground. Play the game right, though, and you'll end up reaching your goal. There may be obstacles in your way, but if you're careful you'll be able to do what you want to do. You'll be happier, because you know that you've won. You've beaten everyone else. You've ignored the temptations to stray from the path. You've found what you were intended find.

In my case, this is Peeta Mellark.

Who would've thought?

I dress quickly, the cold air biting at my skin. Two pairs of socks (one of them looks to be Peeta's) stop my feet from freezing on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, but I wrap a knitted shawl around my shoulders nevertheless. Reaching up with one arm, and holding the shawl in place with the other, I tug the heavy curtains over the kitchen window open, and am momentarily blinded by a bright, glaring white light. I squint, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

_Snow. _

Piled high, almost up to the painted windowsill, the snow drifts are enormous. They'll block the roads, the paths, the doorways of everyone's homes. It's going to be chaos trying to go anywhere. The forest is off limits, that's clear. Even if I could trudge through the snow, I doubt Peeta would let me go. It looks like the next few days are going to be spent by the fire, wrapped up warm in blankets, in our own company. It's Christmas Eve tomorrow. Will the snow have cleared enough for Mom and Prim to reach us? I hope so. I've missed their presence. I climb onto the countertop, push the window open a little, hissing when the glacial air rushes into the room, and scoop a handful of snow into my hand. It numbs my fingers, the calloused skin turning red, and as it begins to melt in my warm palm, the water runs down my arm. Before it turns to slush, I hurry up the stairs, and check to see if Peeta is still asleep. He is. A smirk appears on my face.

What I'm about to do is cruel, really. The snow is freezing, painfully so, but it's just too tempting. I climb onto the bed, placing my feet on either side of his waist, and drop the snowball onto his back. It lands with a satisfying 'splat' and begins to melt rapidly, spreading over his back, tricking down to the small of his back.

"What the fuck?" Peeta exclaims, bending his arms backward to swipe at the icy moisture on his back. He rolls over, still half asleep, and spots me.

I grin wickedly. "It snowed during the night."

"Why?" He narrows his eyes, shivering at the feeling of the melting snow.

"It was too tempting." I shrug. Peeta sighs, but a large smile appears on his lips. He laughs. I smirk.

"So, you wake me up by throwing a snowball at me, and I don't even get breakfast in bed or anything?"

"I'm the pregnant one here, not you," I say. Peeta rolls his eyes, and pulls me down, his large hands gripping my calves. I rest on his stomach, and place my hands on his chest. "Don't be a wuss." Peeta laughs, his eyes wide. I shake my head.

"Uh, about last night..." He says suddenly.

"I'm sorry if I went too far." I tell his softly.

"No!" Peeta frowns, his hands moving upwards towards my thighs. Normally I would've shied away from physical contact like this- now I just find it exhilarating. "Not at all. Last night was... uh...great. I enjoyed it," He pauses, his cheeks pink. "Was it good for you?"

It's my turn to blush. "I had fun, Peeta. I enjoyed it."

"Just because you enjoy something, doesn't mean it's good for you."

"It was good, Peeta. Don't worry." I smile, tracing circles over his skin.

"So I wasn't dreaming?"

I punch his shoulder. "No, you idiot. It was real."

We stay like this for a long time, lost in our own thoughts. I think about Prim. I think about Mom. I force myself to stop thinking about Gale, because I miss him too. I even find myself thinking about Lady. I hope she's warm. Prim probably has her by the fire, covered in blankets. Peeta rubs his thumbs over the smooth skin on my thighs in a soothing motion, his brow furrowed as he thinks. We're completely silent. My heart leaps when I feel the baby kick. The surprised yelp I let out makes Peeta jump, and he looks up at me in confusion.

"Here, gimme your hands," I whisper, pulling up my shirt so it's bunched in the space between the bottom of my breasts and the start of my stomach. His eyes brighten when he realises what's happening. I place his hands on my stomach. "Can you feel it?" I ask. Peeta nods, staring down at his hands in complete awe.

"It's really strong this time."

"Mom said it would be stronger and more frequent in the upcoming weeks." I say. Peeta nods, and smiles up at me. He pulls me forward until I'm sitting directly on his chest. I worry momentarily is he can breath properly or not, but he doesn't seem bothered by the weight of me pressing down on his chest.

"Hey there, baby," He says gently, pressing a soft kiss to my swollen stomach. I exhale, watching Peeta speak to his child. "I can't wait for April, though I'm not sure that your Mommy has the same opinion," I whack the side of his head and he chuckles, his breath hot against my skin. "And even though you make your Mommy feel sick and make her eat weird crap, I know that she loves you," Peeta takes his hands away, and pulls my shirt back down, taking my hands in his. "And I love you too." His eyes are locked on mine as he says this, and he continues to hold my gaze when he kisses my knuckles. Electricity shoots up my arm, and I tear my eyes away, pushing myself off him and stretching my legs, my knees stiff and achy due to having them on either side of Peeta's broad torso for so long.

"Come and see the snow." I say.

"Wait for me to get dressed first." Peeta says, stretching his arms above his head.

Breakfast ends up being oats mixed with hot milk, a carrot and a chocolate muffin. Peeta insists that I eat more fruit and vegetables, for the baby's sake, and decides to bribe me.

"I'll tell what," He says, holding the chocolate muffin in the air, just out of reach. "If you eat this, you get this." He raises an eyebrow, pushing the carrot towards me.

"Bribery? Really?"

"Yes."

"Fine." I say stubbornly, taking the carrot and biting into it. Peeta folds his arms over his chest as I inhale the carrot as quickly as possible without choking.

"And now you get the cupcake." Peeta grins.

"Fuck you." I half-smile, half-scowl, and grab the cupcake, ripping into it, stuffing it into my mouth.

* * *

Half an hour later, Peeta opens the kitchen door that leads to our small backyard, stepping back when the snow that has piled up against it falls onto the tiled floor. He uses a spade to push the snow backwards, away from the house, and then sweeps away the fallen snow with a broom. I wash dishes, mop floors, and dust surfaces. I can't think of what I could possibly get Peeta for Christmas. Whenever I think of things he would like to get, I draw up blank. All the time I spend racking my head, trying as hard as I can to come up with original and meaningful gift ideas is fruitless. By the time I've finished cleaning, I've come up with an idea.

The bakery. Peeta loves baking and cooking, so if I managed to make something without burning the house down, and could present it without the worry of making people sick, I figure that would be a damn good gift. Besides, I never do the cooking. Peeta does it. There's good reasoning behind that arrangement, mainly because I'm an awful cook, and neither of us have complained.

I climb down the stairs, pull on my coat and boots and hat and scarf, and step out onto the path Peeta has cleared.

"Where are you going?" He asks. I step up onto my toes and kiss his cheek.

"To the bakery." I explain.

"I'll come too." Peeta insists, leaning his shovel against the wall.

"You don't have to, Peeta. I'll be alright." I say. Peeta shakes his head, swiping his hand over his sweaty forehead.

"It's fine, really. Let me just get my coat." He disappears inside, and I watch his throat bob up and down as her drinks a glass of water through the kitchen window. He reappears wearing a padded, dark blue coat.

We walk down the snow-covered street slowly, careful to walk around the icy patches. The snow has been cleared away by someone, leaving a small path through the middle of the street. It's eerily silent, the sound of our footsteps muffled by falling snow, and no one is out. I spot a few people shovelling snow, and when we reach the square find ourselves standing on the sidelines of a massive snowball fight. I can see a few adults in the mix, but the majority of people flinging snowballs at each other are teenagers... around mine and Peeta's age. I begin the careful walk around the square as to keep out of the firing line, and Peeta follows close behind.

"Peeta?" Someone shouts from within the fight. I look up from studying where to place my feet, and watch as Peeta greets the kid.

"Hey, Wolf, how've you been?" Peeta asks, ever the cheerful conversationalist.

"I'm good, haven't seen you around. Thought you'd be going round Mitch's house, watching wrestling matches." Wolf asks. He has bright red hair, much like Darius', but dark eyes that are almost black. He's from the Seam originally, but his mother died giving birth to him and the father was never known. So he was dumped in the orphanage. Luckily for him, he was adopted by some townie couple who couldn't have children. He's an alright guy, though I wouldn't really know. Socializing with my peers (or anyone for that matter) is not my forte.

"Yeah, Mitch and I got into an argument." Peeta says, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot.

"Aw, mate, I'm sorry. He'll come around, don't you worry." Wolf says.

"Thanks." Peeta smiles.

"Everdeen? Is it true?" Wolf continues, leaning to the side and spying me from where I'm hiding behind Peeta.

"Is what true?" I ask.

"That you're marrying this goon." Wolf claps Peeta on shoulder. Peeta ducks out of the way and pops back up to throw a snowball at his face. It misses, sailing over his shoulder. Wolf laughs, and I finally realise why he's called Wolf. His laugh is like a wolf's howl, loud and low and echoing.

"He isn't a goon, but his aim is pretty shitty." I say.

"Ah, and that's why you're knocked up?" Wolf asks, waggling his eyebrows. I pull my coat tighter. "Yeah, I noticed." Wolf adds. I bend down, form a snowball and throw it at him. This time, unlike Peeta's attempt, the snowball actually hits him square in the face. Peeta claps his hands, and Wolf splutters, firing obscenities at me.

"I'll see you around, buddy." Peeta says, punching Wolf on the shoulder.

"I want an invite to that bleedin' wedding." Wolf shouts. Peeta throws his arm over my shoulder.

"I didn't know you were such good friends with Wolf." He teases.

"I didn't know your aim was so bad!"

"You heard what he said. That's how you got pregnant-" I cut him off by scooping some more snow from the top of a nearby barrel and shoving it down his shirt. He yells out and I cackle. "I'm gonna get you back when you least expect it."

"I'd like to see you try." I challenge. We reach the bakery and enter through the front door for once, stamping our feet on the porch outside to rid them of most of the snow, and then shuffling out feet back and forth over the bristly brown mat sitting just inside of the door. Fen and Rye are standing behind the counter, serving customers, and they look up and wave when they see us. Peeta leads the way, 'excuse me's and 'can we just get through?'s pouring out of his mouth. I mumble the same things, but with much less enthusiasm and volume.

"Peeta!" Rye greets us, slapping his brother on the back. "How's nearly-married life?"

"It's good, thanks." Peeta chuckles.

"Hey Katniss." Fen adds, the politer one out of the eldest Mellark boys.

"Hey." I wave slightly, feeling the eyes of all three customers burning into my side. Into my ballooning stomach. Into my left hand, which is displaying my engagement ring for all to see. Peeta senses my discomfort and tugs me into the kitchen. Mr Mellark pulls his youngest into a bear hug, slapping his cheek and pushing him aside to come and hug me.

"Katniss, my dear. How are you? How is the baby? Is my son treating you right?" He asks, his voice loud in my ear.

"Both the baby and I are okay, thanks," I smile, slightly flustered at my soon-to-be-father-in-law's displays of affection to the girl who, essentially, drove an even bigger rut between Peeta and his mother, and causes a whole lot of drama that could've been avoided. I'm sure that if the roles were reversed, and I was Katniss Mellark and Peeta was an Everdeen, Peeta wouldn't have been welcomed with such open arms. "Peeta's a good fiancé. You've raised him well."

"Phew." Mr Mellark says, grasping at his heart.

"Uh, Peeta, could you go help Fen and Rye or something?" I ask, wringing my hands. Peeta frowns.

"What?"

"I need to talk to your Dad without _you_ hearing." I say, smiling ruefully.

"Is something wrong?" Peeta flies into protective mode, stepping closer to me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm just... you can't hear about this yet." I say. This is going well. All I'm trying to do is organize a surprise for Peeta, and end up making him worried that something is wrong.

"Peet, just go help your brothers," Mr Mellark says, leaning against the countertop. Peeta gives me a concerned look, hangs his coat up, and squeezes my shoulder reassuringly before disappearing into the front of the shop. "Now, what seems to be the problem?" Peeta's father asks.

"I need your help," I begin. "For Peeta's Christmas gift, I want to make him something that he can eat. I know he likes baking, but I can't cook to save my life."

"So, what do you want me to do?"

"Help me bake or cook something, _anything, _that Peeta will like," I say. "Please?"

"That's a real nice thing to do, my dear." Mr Mellark nods, smiling fondly at me. "Can you help me then? I don't want to intrude or make work here more difficult. But it would be really nice to cook something for him for once... Is this a silly idea?"

"Katniss, no, this isn't a silly idea at all. Sit down for a moment," He says, pulling out a chair and sitting me down. He pulls a heavy, dog-eared, leather-bound book from the shelf, and brings it to the table, sitting down to flick through the pages. "I have just the thing." He finds the page he's looking for, spins the book around, and pushes it towards me.

"Snickerdoodles?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "What are _they_?"

Mr Mellark laughs at my surprised expression. "They sound silly, but when Peeta was little he loved making these. Snickerdoodles are cookies, made from butter, sugar and flour. Some people roll them in sugar, but we Mellarks like to roll them in cinnamon."

"Should I make... Snickerdoodles?" I ask warily.

"I think you should. They're reminders of good memories to Peeta- he and his grandfather used to make them. It was the first thing that Peet ever made by himself. He likes them best with chocolate chips." Mr Mellark says.

"Snickerdoodles it is." I say, glancing over the recipe.

"I'll get the ingredients and equipment; you rummage through that bin and find an apron to wear. If you've got flour all over your clothes he's gonna suspect something."

I hang my coat beside Peeta's, the dry heat pouring from the ovens a stark contrast to the frigid weather outside. Mr Mellark busies himself, measuring flour, cutting butter, and bringing out countless bowls, not once looking at the recipe book on the kitchen table.

"Katniss, could you go and ask the boys for another roll of greaseproof paper?" Is the only request Peeta's father has. I nod, rolling my sleeves up to my elbow, and walk through the house and into the shop.

"Hey, can I come back now?" Peeta asks, his blue eyes wide as he straightens up from reaching for something under the counter.

"No, not yet," I say. "I need a roll of greaseproof paper though."

"What the hell are you doing?" Rye asks.

"Nothing that concerns you." I retort. Rye scoffs. Fen chuckles. Peeta hands me the paper.

"You're up to something..." He says, his eyes narrowed.

"Stop worrying, Jesus." I say, looking over my shoulder as I walk back towards the kitchen.

"You've got a right diva to deal with." I hear Rye tell Peeta.

"That isn't her maximum diva level." He replies. I smirk.

Mr Mellark guides me through all the stages of baking the Snickerdoodles. I feel stupid when he has to correct me on things that, honestly, seem trivial. Anyone else would find this easy, I'm sure. But the end product turns out golden brown, and not burnt to a crisp. The bakery doesn't burn down either, which I count as a good thing.

Whilst we let the cookies cool, Mr Mellark and I sit back at the kitchen table, eating bread and jam. As we talk- about anything from Merchant quality flour versus Seam flour to how long we suspect the snow to last.

"I'm sorry if Peeta moving out of the bakery has made work over here difficult," I say, pulling the sleeves of my heavy knit jumper over to cover my hands. "It must be nice when he comes over to help. I'm sorry for stealing you son."

Mr Mellark chuckles. "It's okay, really. He's happy. I just which he'd come around here more often," He rubs his jaw (I suppose that's where Peeta gets it from). "I mean, I know he's growing up and all, marrying a lovely girl, having a baby and all, but he never seems to be here."

"What do you mean?" I ask, my brow furrowing. "Peeta's always gone."

"Yesterday he wasn't here. The last time he was here for more than an hour was last week."

"Peeta's been somewhere. If he wasn't here, where was he?"

"I thought he was spending time with you." Mr Mellark says. I shake my head.

"I'll ask him." I say. I wonder where Peeta has been disappearing to. If he isn't at the bakery helping his family, and he isn't at our house, where could he be?

Mr Mellark teaches me how to roll the cookies in a mixture of cinnamon and sugar, and then leaves to help Fen deliver orders of cakes and pastries and other delicious creations to the elderly who cannot come through the knee-deep snow and collect it themselves, leaving me to finish making Peeta's gift. It's simple and easy, and even though I end up dropping a cookie, the finished product looks nice and tastes nice. I place the cookies in a paper box and put the box into a paper bag. The kitchen door swings open behind me.

-Peeta-

I'm helping Rye serve customers when I hear shouting. Rye gives me a look I'm very familiar with- Mom is yelling. Dad left ages ago with Fen, delivering parcels to the elderly members of the district. That leaves Katniss on her own. Mom must be yelling at her.

"Go see if she's alright," Rye says, his sympathetic smile not reaching his eyes. "I mean, I'm sure Katniss is fine... but, you know." He shrugs his shoulders. I close the till and finish up with a customer before excusing myself, heading for the kitchen.

"Why are you here?" Mom's voice rings loud and clear as I creep down the darkened corridor. I peek around the door frame and see Katniss turn to face my mother.

"I'm making something for Peeta," She says, her grey eyes wide but challenging. "Is that a problem?"

Mom steps over the threshold and into the room, eerily calm. I don't like it. Not one bit. I can only imagine how Katniss is feeling. She must be furious already. "Not entirely. But you shouldn't be here. Seam scum like _you _are not meant to mix with the likes of us." My stomach clenches. Why does she have to do this?

According the Fen and Rye, Mom used to have a good soul. She was kind to her sons, never laid a hand on them, treated them with all the love a mother would be expected to give. But as time went by, and I was born, she turned sour. 'I wanted a daughter! Not another boy! Why can't you give me what I want?' She would scream at my father, before bursting into tears. Dad would comfort her, telling her that this was simply how it was meant to be, and she would apologise for shouting. But the next day they would be back in square one.

And one day, square one became a permanent state of mind for my mother. The first child she hit was Fen, when he dropped a glass of milk. At first we thought it was a onetime thing, but the beatings got harsher and more often, and we just accepted it. I can remember from a young age being found my father after Mom flew into one of her rages.

* * *

_My tummy hurts, and if I cry, it hurts even more. But I can't stop crying. I don't make any sound, terrified that Mommy will come back in here and hit me again. She's been drinking from those glass bottles again. And she hasn't taken her pills. Fen and Rye are at the green- playing football, I think. I begged them to let me go with them. I wish they had said yes. I wouldn't have cried if I fell over, not like last time. Fen said that babies weren't allowed. I'm not a baby. I'm five. Five years old is not a baby._

_I've been hiding in my closet for ages. Mom threw a bottle at me. My hair smells really bad now. The stuff that was inside the bottle went in my hair. It can't be water- water doesn't smell that bad. I peek through the gap in the cupboard doors. I think Mommy went to bed. _

_Taking a deep breath, I push open the cupboard door and step out into the hallway. My knee is bleeding. And my arm is bleeding. My tummy hurts. My face hurts. I go into the bathroom and pull out the plastic stool that sits under the sink. I'm too short to see the mirror when I brush my teeth, so Daddy brought it for me so I could stand on it. I miss Daddy. He said he'd only be gone for a little while to put in some orders at the train station. I want him to come home and tell me it's okay. Instead, I have to be a big boy and find a bandage for my knee. Rye uses this white stretchy material when he hurts himself. I'll use that. After searching all the cupboards, I finally find the roll of bandage and begin to wrap it around my knee. It wont stop bleeding. And my tummy still hurts. _

_I pull up my shirt, and see a big purple bruise on my side. I poke at my tummy. Mommy kicked me quite hard. I didn't mean to rip a hole in my shorts. Why can't she just sew it up? That's what Wolf's Mommy does. And when Mitch got his coat snagged on a tree his Mommy taught him how to sew it up. _

"_Peety?" I drop my shirt and sit upright. Daddy's back!_

"_Daddy?" I whisper-shout. I don't want to wake Mommy. But I don't think Daddy can hear me. I look down at the floor. My arm has stopped bleeding now, so it doesn't need a bandage. But there's blood on the bathroom floor now. Lots of it, trickling in between the tiles onto the funny glue that holds the tiles together._

"_Peeta? Aymee?" Daddy begins to climb the stairs. He isn't very quiet. He blames it on his big boots. _

"_Daddy!" I call._

"_Peety?" Daddy is getting closer closer closer. And then he's there, standing in the doorway, looking down the corridor. "Where's Mommy?" He asks, and then he turns his head to face me._

"_She's asleep." I say. Daddy's face gets all sad when he looks at me. He looks at all the blood on the floor. He comes forward and picks me up, his hands under my arms, lifting me up so I'm sitting on the toilet lid. _

"_How'd you do this?" He asks, dampening some tissue and dabbing at my knee. I wince. "Sorry." He says softly. _

"_Mommy go angry 'cuz I got a hole in my shorts. She threw her bottle at me and I cut my knee. I'm sorry for making a mess." I explain. _

"_Where else are you hurt?" Daddy asks. _

"_My arm," I say, holding out my arm to show him. "But it's okay now."_

"_Where else?"_

"_My tummy." I say. Daddy lifts my shirt over my head, pulling it away from my sore face. He examines my stomach. _

"_When does it hurt?" Daddy asks, his eyes sad. He touches my face, moving his fingers across where Mommy hit me. He then looks at my knee; dabs some cream onto it and bandages it up. _

"_When I breathe," I bite my lip. What if I die? When Fen hurt his arm at a wrestling match, the doctor said he shouldn't use it. But if I stop breathing, I'll die! "Am I going to die?" I ask. Daddy looks up very quickly. He looks very sad. _

"_No, Peet, of course not," He says. "Why would you think that?" I explain my theory. He smiles a little. "You aren't going to die. I won't let you die." He pats my knee, pulls my shirt back on, and lifts me into his arms. I wrap my arm around his neck. Daddy always knows how to make me feel better. Mom isn't nice to me when she drinks that smelly stuff._

"_Mommy forgot her pills again." I say, resting my head on Daddy's shoulder. He nods, patting my head. _

"_I know Peety, I know." He sits me on the sofa, gives me a Snickerdoodle, and turns on the TV. He goes outside for a little while, and when he comes back in he's carrying a big bottle of bleach and a mop. I think he's going to clear up the blood on the bathroom floor. _

* * *

That was the first time that Mom really hurt me. Back then, I didn't understand that the 'smelly stuff' was alcohol, nor that Dad had gone into the alley outside the bakery and cried before coming back in with the bleach. Or that my brothers cried when they found out that I had a broken rib. They felt guilty for not inviting me to go to play football. I think they still feel guilty, but no one actually says something. We all deal with Mom's anger in different ways, and don't actually confront each other about it.

I was stupid to assume that Mom was going to calm down a little- finally accept that her youngest child was having a baby. Of course she wouldn't be alright with this. Of course not.

"Excuse me?" Katniss' voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Don't play dumb!" Mom hisses, slamming her palm down onto the countertop. "I know what you're doing! I know that you only did this because you wanted a way out of that God forsaken hell hole!"

"The Seam is not a hell hole!" My fiancé exclaims. "And getting pregnant was an accident!"

"Bullshit!" Mom snarls. "Peeta has loved you for years, despite my efforts to point him in the right direction. He just happened to get you drunk and in his bed- though I'm sure you went with him without a second thought!" She steps even closer to Katniss, her sharp little shoes tapping on the tiled floor. Katniss straightens her back, locking her jaw and staring defiantly at my mother. She's remarkably strong. I guess loosing your father does that to you. "I want you to leave. Go back to your family and never talk to Peeta ever again. You don't care about him; all you want is a place to live and money!"

"You don't care about you son, you never have!" Katniss says, pushing herself upright from the stool. "How can you say that I don't care? I care about him- more than I've ever cared about anyone!"

"How dare you shout at me!" Mom says, her eyes flaming. "Get out, now! Take that _bastard _child with you!" I grit my teeth. Katniss looks like she wishes she had her bow with her.

"My child is not a bastard!"

"Ha! As if anyone will believe what you say! That child is not Peeta's. He is not man enough to do anything of the sort," Katniss locks eyes with me. She tilts her head to one side, her brow furrowing together. Mom continues on her rage. "Try and pass of that thing as your child, as Peeta's child, and see how far it gets you."

"I've never slept with anyone but Peeta, so of course it's his!"

"Do not _lie_ to me- do _not_ pretend that you love my son. Do _not_ pretend that you love that baby."

"I love my child. I love Peeta's child," Katniss retorts softly, watching me carefully. "Why can't you just accept that?"

"I almost feel sorry for the baby. It's going to have to grow up in the care of a person like you." Mom sniffs, sticking her nose in the air. This obviously strikes a nerve in Katniss' mind, and she bites her lip, looking down at the ground. I know she's worried about whether she'll be able to raise a child. She doesn't believe that she can do it. But I have complete faith in her. If she can raise Prim, she can raise her child. She'd wage a war against Panem if the baby so much as got a bruise.

"Well, if that's how you feel, you can forget about any plans to see your grandchild." I say, keeping my voice slow and steady. Mom whips around, obviously embarrassed at being caught.

That's her weakness. The public eye, anyone catching her beat her children or scream at her children, and more recently, scream at Katniss. In private, she has no problem with lashing out, but once someone outside the family is there, she is as sweet as sugar. All smiles and laughter- building a facade in which it appears that the Mellark household is a loving place. It's all just a lie. Once everyone is gone, we're back to her old ways of yelling and crying and hitting. Some days, when it's particularly bad, I hide in my room and sit in the wardrobe. I rest my head against the cool wood inside, and collect my thoughts. Sometimes I have flashbacks, usually of the times when she'd use Dad's belt. I trace my hands over the scarred skin that sits beneath my trouser line.

"Ungrateful! That's what you are." Mom says, walking up to me.

"I love Katniss-" I start, towering over Mom. Despite her petite size and skinny frame, Mom has a lot of strength. She brings her hand around and slaps the side of my head. I don't even react, keeping my face as a mask, refusing to display any emotion.

"You do not!" Mom hisses. "You're _obsessed_, boy. You're crazy!"

_You're the crazy one. _I think to myself.

"I want to look after her, _and our baby-"_

Another slap. My skin is stinging. Great- another bruise to laugh off to anyone who asks.

"Please, Mom. Stop yelling at her. Katniss has done nothing wrong." I say, wishing that she would just hold her temper back for when people visit. Mom's elbow bends, and I don't even flinch. I'm accepting it, tired of fighting. Katniss leaps forward, gripping Mom's arm. She wrenches it out of her grip, her eyes wide. She can't believe that a _Seam rat _is touching her. She slaps her instead. Katniss' hands flies up to her cheek, though I think it's more out of shock than pain.

"Katniss!" I exclaim, pushing past Mom and holding onto her upper arms. I can't believe Mom actually _slapped _her.

"I'm fine," She says stonily, her grey eyes fixed on my mother, who probably has steam pouring from her ears. "Honestly," I hear mom leave the room, spinning on her heel with a huff. "She's a coward."

"What happened?" I ask, cradling her face in my hands.

"Nothing, she just came in and started yelling. I'm okay, Peeta." Katniss soothes.

"I can't believe she actually hit you though." I whisper. Katniss sits me back down onto a stool.

"If you hadn't been there I would've slapped her too, don't you worry." She laughs, smoothing her thumb over my cheekbone.

"Do you want some ice for your cheek?"

"Nah, do _you_?" She purses her lips. I shake my head.

"Have you finished whatever you were doing? I don't like secrets, especially when they're kept from me."

"Stop fussing. And yes, I'm done."

"You want to go home?"

"Yes, please. But I can't thank your dad for helping me." Katniss says.

"Don't worry; I'm sure that he knows that you're grateful." I reassure her, walking over to the coat rack and pulling on my coat. I hand Katniss her coat and she zips it up.

"Fuck, I'm not going to be able to wear this if it gets any bigger," She mutters. I laugh. She scowls at me. "Don't laugh. I'm going to be like a watermelon with legs!"

"I'll paint you when that happens, and we can frame it and put it on the wall."

"I'll burn it if you do." Katniss narrows her eyes.

* * *

It's mid-afternoon, but still bitterly cold. The snow is still falling in erratic flurries, covering all the paths people have cleared. The square is fairly snow-free, the snowball fight that was happening on the way to the bakery using up all the snow. But the snow that remains has been compacted underfoot, solidifying into a giant ice rink. I'm cautious, sticking my arms out as I make my way across, trying not to slip and fall on my ass. Katniss, however, takes the ice like a natural, even in her hunting boots.

"How can you do that?" I ask as she slides towards me.

"There's a lake, in the forest. Whenever it froze over enough, Dad would take me there and teach me to skate. We used to have proper skates, with the metal blades on the bottom, but I sold them a few years back." She grips my gloved hands, tugging me away from the safety of the shop walls where I can hang on tight and into the middle of the square.

"Wait, I can't skate!" I say as Katniss twirls away, her braid whipping around. "How do you expect me to get back to dry ground?"

"You'll have to learn pretty fast, wont you?" Katniss laughs, stopping to readjust her scarf.

"Cut me some slack- at least tell me how to move." I plead, spreading my feet a shoulder widths apart to try and keep my balance.

"Are you telling me that you've never skidded around on the tiles in your kitchen while wearing socks?" Katniss asks, raising her eyebrows incredulously.

"Have I been living under a rock?"

"Alright sassy," Katniss grins. She skates over to me and takes my hands. "Just pretend you're doing that. Slide your feet forward, but keep your knees bent."

"What if I fall?"

"I get to laugh." Katniss says, pulling a face.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll find a way to make you fall," She says. "Now come on, you've got to at least try." I try my best to skate, but my efforts look pathetic compared to the way Katniss flies across the bumpy ice, the tip of her nose red, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Just as I begin to get the idea, I loose control of my feet (a Mellark trait, unfortunately) and slip, my arms flailing in what I'm sure is an attractive way, falling flat on my back, whacking my head. Katniss laughs at first, the sound music to my ears, but I lay still, pretending that I've been knocked unconscious from the fall.

"Peeta?" Katniss calls. I hear the scraping sound of ice as she gets closer, and my lips start twitching. I desperately want to burst out laughing. "Peeta? Are you alright?" She bends down, kneeling on the ice, and shakes my shoulder. "Don't be a jackass. If this is your idea of a joke... I swear I'm gonna kill you." I feel her hands on my face. "Peeta? Can you hear me?" She's getting worried now, I can hear it in her voice. "Shit," She breathes, shaking my shoulder again. "Please tell me you're kidding right now. Peeta?" She exhales loudly. "Peeta?" She tries again. "Oh my God. Fuck." She whispers. I open my eyes. She's inches from my face.

"I got you." I chuckle. She gasps, her eyes wide. I laugh, clutching at my stomach.

"Fuck you, Peeta Mellark!" She cries. "I thought you were dead or something!"

"I told you I'd get you back!" I laugh.

"You can sleep on the couch tonight." She scowls, starting to push herself to her feet. I grab her hand and pull her back down on top of me. She folds her arms over her chest, glaring at me.

"Alright, I'm sorry." I say, sitting up and kissing the tip of her nose.

"Don't you ever do that again. You hear me?"

"Yeah, okay."

"You're a dickhead, you know that right?" Katniss continues. I press my lips to hers. She doesn't kiss me back. "I was freaking out."

"I know you were." I mumble, giving up on trying to keep a straight face.

"Asshole." She mutters. I kiss her again.

"You love me anyway." I add cheekily.

"Whatever." Katniss says, taking my face in her hands and kissing me gently. When I pull away, I push the strands of hair that have escaped her braid away from her face.

"Do I still have to sleep on the couch?" I ask. Katniss scoffs, standing up and brushing off her pants. My jeans are soaked through. I didn't think about that as I lay on the ice pretending to be dead. That's karma for you. I climb unsteadily to my feet, walking carefully towards her. I tug on her braid. "You didn't answer me."

"Yes," Katniss says. "You do."


	35. Chapter 35: Nightmarish Reality

**Awh , you guys ;) Thanks for the birthday messages, the reviews, the follows and the favourites! Nothing much happens in this chapter- it's more of a little addition to tide you over until the 4****th**** :D**

**Make sure to check out my one-shot, ****_Just Fooling Around! _****Also, thank you to ****_autumn-robin _****who gave me some useful advice that I'll be using further on in the story.**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I can hear someone screaming.

But it doesn't sound like an adult screaming. Or a child.

_It sounds like a baby._

My heart skips a beat. "Peeta?" I whisper into the darkness. "Can you hear that?" There's no answer. I roll over. Peeta is gone. The bed is cold and empty. The bed sheets are bunched up around me, and as I fight to break free, they seem to wind themselves tighter around me like snakes, tighter tighter tighter, suffocating me.

Finally I manage to rip them from my limbs. I stagger to my feet. Looking down, I'm shocked to find that my stomach is flat- as if I wasn't pregnant- and my shirt is stained with blood. A choked sob escapes my lips and I stagger forward, wrenching open the bedroom door.

Whipping my hair away from my face, a strong, freezing wind that numbs my ears screams down the hallway. Where is it coming from?

Lying on the hallway floor, sprawled out in a fashion that would suggest that he was trying to run away from whoever or whatever was chasing him, is Peeta. I stumble- my legs unstable and shaky- towards him, falling to my knees beside him. His eyes are open, wide and glassy. He's been dead for a good amount of time, his lips are turning blue. He's dead.

_Peeta is dead._

_Dead._

I feel empty, blank and emotionless. Blood soaks my clothes, soaks the carpet underfoot. It squelches as I crawl along its length. I reach the room that will become my child's bedroom when he or she is born. The walls are splattered with blood, and when I drag myself over to the crib Sae gave us, the bed is empty. There's no baby.

There's a knife in my hand. It's bloody. I fling it across the room, gasping in horror. Did I do this? Did I kill Peeta? Where is our baby? What is this place?

"Katniss!" I can hear someone shouting my name, but it's muffled, as if I'm underwater.

The wall turn to black sludge, melting around me, drowning me, pulling me under.

"Katniss!" I reach up, trying to escape from the darkness than is drowning me.

"KATNISS!"

I gasp for air, struggling to get away from the hands that hold me down, glancing around with wild eyes. A cold sweat gleams on my forehead, and trickles down my back, making my sleep shirt stick to my clammy skin.

"Hey, Katniss. Not real, not real," Peeta soothes, hugging me close to him and not letting go. I push him away, only to grasp at my stomach. My belly is still there. My baby is safe. I look up at Peeta. It's early in the morning, around three a.m. I must have woken him up with my screaming and thrashing about. He looks ridiculously tired, with purple bags under his eyes. "It's okay. I'm here." He says, his hair is sticking out in all directions, and his blue eyes are wide.

"You're okay?" I ask breathlessly, tracing my hands over his broad shoulders, over his arms. He's here. His lips are not blue. His eyes are not glassy. Peeta is alive. I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder.

"I'm okay." Peeta whispers.

"You were dead. The baby was gone. There was s-so much blood." I sob. Peeta rubs my back in soothing circles.

"There's no blood. No one is hurt," He says, pulling me into his lap and cradling me. He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I was... just..."

"I know, I know." Peeta smiles sadly. He lies back, resting against the pillows, and pulls me down with him. My heart is still racing, so I press my ear to my fiancé's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, using it not only calm down, but to anchor me back to reality. We're silent for a while, and I swipe my hand over my cheeks, wiping away the tears.

"Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?" I say, finally breaking the silence. Peeta stiffens beside me, his hand pausing on my lower back.

"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror." He says, continuing to rub my spine.

"You should wake me." I say, feeling guilty.

"My nightmares are usually about losing you," He says. "I'm okay once I realize you're here."

"I dreamt that I lost you." I confess eventually.

"You haven't lost me," Peeta murmurs. "I'm right here."

"Stay with me?" I ask warily.

"Always." His reply is short, but definite. I snuggle into his side.

* * *

Memories of my nightmare stick with me like ghosts, but I manage a few hours of dreamless sleep in Peeta's arms. Without him, I doubt I would sleep at all. Back home, when I had a nightmare, even the presence of both Mom and Prim couldn't calm me. Sometimes I'd just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my breath coming out in rapid gasps.

Peeta wakes me by pressing soft kisses down my neck. I smile, pushing him away playfully.

"Are you alright now?" He asks, taking my hand and squeezing it.

"Yes," I nod. "It was just a...a... horrible nightmare."

"Do you have nightmares often?"

"Sometimes... they're normally about my father."

"Normally?"

"That one was about you and the baby," I say, pushing myself upright. "I was holding a knife... and there was blood everywhere." I tuck my knees as tightly to my chest as possible. Peeta frowns.

"It was only a nightmare."

"I know," I whisper. "But it was so _real_," We're silent for a while- stuck in our own thoughts. "What time is it?" I ask, climbing out of the bed.

"Nearly eleven."

"_In the morning?" _I exclaim, my eyes wide. I never sleep in this late. I'm always either out before the sun has begun to rise over the mountains

"Yep." Peeta nods.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not long, I just-"

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you've been stressed. I don't want you tired and worried all the time- it isn't good for you or the baby." Peeta says. I run my hands through my hair and begin unpicking my braid. I need to wash my hair.

"Sorry," I smile ruefully at Peeta. "I don't mean to just... freak out like that. Sorry."

"It's okay," Peeta smiles. "Everyone has nightmares, it's just who we have to comfort us that matters."

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Katniss and I spend the morning sitting at the kitchen table. We don't bother with breakfast- by the time Katniss and I finish showering it's about lunchtime.

We eat sandwiches for lunch, using leftover squirrel as a filling. Katniss sneaks into the pantry and steals some cubes of cooking chocolate. I pretend not to notice.

"Wolf said that you and Mitch had an argument," Katniss says, looking up from the arrow she's carving. _Shit. I hoped that she wouldn't pick up that. _"You two are best friends. What happened?"

"Nothing," I shrug my shoulders, trying to act nonchalant. "It was stupid. A stupid argument."

"If it's so stupid, why can't you tell me?" Katniss frowns. I run my hands through my hair exasperatedly.

"Because it's stupid. It doesn't matter."

"Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, he'll get over himself." I say. I stand to clear away the plates. I'm going to cook the turkey that Katniss shot a few days ago, before the snow came, so that by the time Mrs Everdeen and Prim swing by for dinner tomorrow, it will have cooked for hours. Katniss moves steadily around the house, cleaning again. I think it's called nesting. Dad said Mom did it with Rye, and would clean and reorganize the house almost every day. I'm not going to complain though. I'm content with the house being clean, especially if I don't have to do the actual cleaning.

As I prepare the turkey, my mind wanders. Most of the time I hate it, because I end up over thinking simple, often trivial things. But as I go into auto-pilot mode, cleaning the turkey, stuffing it and covering it in various herbs and butter, I can't help it. I hate keeping it secret from Katniss, but I know that it's the only way. If she knew she'd be distraught, I'm sure. Considoring what happened to her father, Gale's father, and countless other people, it's better to keep it secret than tell her. She'd tell me that I couldn't do it. That I had to stop. We need the money though. The weekly pay is pitiful (though working in a place like that, I'm not in the least surprised), but it means that I can build up savings for our future. I want to be able to buy nice things for my child, my fiancé. I want o be able to provide for them.

Risking my life seems like a pretty good way to go.

Katniss would disagree.

Spending hours in the darkness, hundreds of feet underground, the stifling heat of the mines is choking. How the Seam mean can spend their lives working here, I'll never know. It must be in their genes. I'm surprised that no one has told Katniss, actually. I've begged people to keep it a secret, and they've stuck to their word so far. That, or they just don't care about the underage townie who spends hours each night and most days chipping away at the rock, searching for coal that ran out generations ago.

Keeping this secret has taken its toll on me. Katniss has noticed the dark shadows under my eyes that come from the lack of sleep, and the scrapes that I've obtained. I assume, well, I _hope_, that she thinks that all my blisters are from work at the bakery. In an effort to get the coal dust out of my hair, out of my eyes, off my skin and clothes, I've taken to showering in my clothes in the dead of the night. Katniss is a deep sleeper, and I don't think she's ever woken up when I'm gone.

The mines are shut over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but reopen on Boxing Day. And off I'll go, pretending that I'm working at the bakery or running errands, when in actuality I'll be stuffed into a wire cage with seven other workers, lowered into the ground, and asked to work, praying that today won't be the day when the ground collapses above or beneath me. My employment at the mines is what started the argument between Mitch and I, though it was my relationship with Katniss that has prolonged it. He was walking back from visiting Madge- they're still going strong, and Mayor Undersee has been informed of his daughter's relationship- when he saw me, walking along the road, stamping my feet in an effort to shake off some of the coal dust that clings to every fibre of my clothing, not to mention my soul. He had demanded to know what I was doing, and I deflected his question with a query of my own. "What are you doing out so late?" I had asked.

"I've just been at Madge's house." He had replied, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Does her father approve?" I asked, only meaning it as a joke. But Mitch took it the wrong way.

"Don't act all high-and-mighty with me," He had sneered. "When you're the one who knocked Everdeen up."

"This has nothing to do with Katniss."

"It has everything to do with Katniss! I've been your loyal friend, all these years, and the second you get anywhere with her, you completely abandon me!"

"I fucking _knocked her up!" _I had retorted, suddenly angry. How he could he say that I'd abandoned him? I had been busy, for Christ's shake. I'm sure he would've have been in deeper shit than me if he had knocked Madge up. "Of course I'm going to be occupied with other things! I'm sorry if we haven't hung around lately, but I've been busy!"

"Don't tell me this is my fault, Peeta. This is _your_ shit to deal with, not _mine."_

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Clearly not, because if you could just manage to keep your dick under control for ten seconds you wouldn't be in this mess." Mitch had stood there, his eyes wide. I was stunned.

"Is that how you feel?"

"Yes, Peeta. That's how _everyone _feels."

"You can all fuck off, then. Does that suit you?"

"You've changed, Mellark," Mitch had yelled down the empty street as I turned and walked away. "For the worst!"

As much as I wanted to turn around and shout at him until my throat was raw and my lungs screamed, I forced myself to keep going, one foot after another. Shouting would only make it worse, and I was afraid that if I let all my emotions out, drop the burden that seems to permanently weigh me down, I would be left empty and bare for all to see.

So, instead, I bottled it up inside. I walked away, back to the girl of my dreams. I should've been happy- I'd gained _Katniss Everdeen_ out of all of this. But I was sad. Because it felt like I had cheated fate. Katniss wasn't meant to drunkenly have sex with me, only to get pregnant with my child. Katniss was meant to live her days out in the Seam, surviving like she always did, until she was old and grey. Maybe she'd marry Gale, and they'd have children together. But I stepped in and messed everything up.

I may have gained the girl I wanted, but I lost so much as a result.


	36. Chapter 36: Christmas Fun

**Thank you to the amazing response to this story, and Happy Birthday _risingfromtheshadows _! :) This is another Katniss chapter. The next will be Peeta, so don't fret ;)**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Christmas Day swings around quicker than expected. I'm woken by the smell of turkey cooking filling the house, causing my stomach to rumble. Although Peeta is by far the better cook out of the two of us, I wish that he could maybe not cook such delicious food. The delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen is making me hungry all the time. But Prim and my mother don't arrive until 2p.m., so I have to wait until I can eat anything. I get dressed and go downstairs into the kitchen.

"Peeta?" I call. "You here?" There's no answer. I lean against the doorframe and sigh before turning around to head for the living room. I jump in surprise. Peeta's right behind me, with a ridiculous smirk on his lips.

"Merry Christmas." He grins.

"Fucking hell," I say, clutching at my chest. Peeta waggles his eyebrows and looks up. I follow his gaze. "Uh, no fair." I say, spying the mistletoe he's pinned to the doorway.

"Katniss, it's Christmas. Don't be a Grinch."

"I'm not being a Grinch."

"Kiss me then." Peeta raises his eye brows. I press my lips together.

"_You_ kiss _me_."

"I'm not gonna say no to that." He says, leaning down and kissing me, shifting his body forward so that it's pressed against mine. I open my lips, and he slides his tongue over my bottom lip, deepening the kiss. I slide my arms around his neck, slanting my mouth against his. When I pull away, my breaths are rapid and shaky.

"Merry Christmas." I smile.

"Merry Christmas to you too." Peeta grins, kissing me again.

Peeta and I cook for the rest of the morning, exchanging stories of past Christmases. I talk about when my father bought an orange home after a shift at the mines, how the bright colour stood out against his coal-blackened skin, how delicious the three segments I had were.

"It's weird. I can still taste it."

"After all these years?" Peeta asks, chopping a carrot into even slices.

"After all these years..." I smile at the memory. "What do you remember?"

"When I was little, I must have been three or four years old; we had a shipment of oysters. All the way from District 4."

"Oysters?" I ask. I've heard of them from lessons at school, but I'm still unsure of what they are exactly. Lessons about the other districts that make up Panem are brief, cloudy subjects that none of the teachers seem particularly eager to teach about. It isn't that they aren't provided with the information in the Capitol approved textbooks, but we generally skip the fine details. Most of us tend to make up things about the districts ourselves, using our imaginations to picture what it's like.

Four sounds wonderful, all clear water and golden sands and endless blue skies. There's a picture of a beach from District 4, and Twelve looks grubby and rundown and coal-dust-covered in comparison. I mean, Twelve _is _grubby and rundown and coal-dust-covered, but it's not like we can help it. The Capitol doesn't care much about the outer-lying districts, but Twelve just seems to get further and further from the modernisation of the Capitol with each day. Our traditions are still the same as they were over a hundred years ago, and according to elders the district layout hasn't changed dramatically either.

"People dive for them, right down to the seabed. They're these mollusc things in shells," Peeta wrinkles his nose. "I don't like them. My Dad snuck some in for us to try, but they're all slimey and cold and... Ugh," He shudders. "In 4 they're considered a delicacy. Everyone eats them, but I think they're disgusting."

"You get pearls, in oysters," I say thoughtfully. "Don't you?"

"Yup." Peeta nods.

"I always wanted to go to District 4. It looks so beautiful in all the textbooks at school."

"It would certainly be an adventure."

"I would like to swim in the ocean," I say, peeling the skin off a potato with a knife. "My Dad always said that the water would be really warm and clear- as clear as drinking water."

"Can you swim?" Peeta asks, turning his head to look at me, his eyes bright.

"Yeah," I nod. "There's this lake, way out in the forest. Dad taught me to swim, told me that it would one day save my life," I snort. "As if that's ever gonna happen."

"You never know, this snow could last for weeks. By the time it melts it could flood the district, and you'd have to swim to safety." Peeta nudges my side and grins.

"That's likely," I roll my eyes. "Can you swim?"

"Ah, no, I can't," Peeta chuckles. "I've never come across a big enough body of water to practice."

"Was the bathtub down at the bakery not big enough?" I tease.

"It's funny, actually. It got smaller the older I got."

"Hilarious." I say.

"None of the Mellarks know how to swim," Peeta says, moving over in front of the ovens to check the turkey. "In a game of survival of the fittest, the best we could do is frost someone to death."

"Now that's something I'd like to see."

"I'm serious!" Peeta exclaims, standing up and brushing off his pants.

"You're strong. Maybe you could throw bags of flour of people."

"Yes, because there would bags of flour just lying around if the world came to an end." My fiancé says, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, because you'd have enough time and supplies to make frosting if the world came to an end." I retort, mimicking Peeta's tone. He steps closer to me, his hands resting on my hips.

"I'm an expert frosting maker, thank you very much." He says, leaning closer with a playful smirk on his face. I laugh and wait until his lips are mere millimetres away from mine before moving away. I make for the doorway, slapping his ass as I pass.

"I'm going to get dressed before Mom and Prim get here." I say, leaving the room and going upstairs. I ransack my half of the wardrobe Peeta brought over from the bakery, searching through the few clothes I have, pulling out the same blue dress I wore at the dinner, just after I was paired with Peeta. But as I pull it on and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, I realise that the dress is way too short to wear without leggings or pants, my stomach protruding out so much that it makes the hemline of the skirt rise from just above my knees to high up on my thighs. It's more of a shirt than a dress.

I rummage further into my closet, and pull out a clean pair of pants, sliding them on underneath the dress. I untangle my braid, combing my fingers through my hair to make it a little more presentable, allowing it to fall in loose waves over my shoulders. I try to remember the pattern that Mom used to braid my hair, and braid a little on one side, before securing it with a pin.

Peeta is in the bathroom, shaving the stubble that has grown, creeping over his upper lip, his chin and his jaw line. For a minute I just stand there in the doorway, watching the muscles in his back ripple, but once I've come back to my senses I sit him down on the toilet seat and take the razor.

"Let me do it." I say. This is an intimate gesture, isn't it? This is what normal couples do.

"Don't hurt me, please." He begs, grinning widely.

"If you keep grinning, I am gonna hurt you," I say, squirting some shaving foam into my hand and lathering it up. I apply it to his skin and run the razor gently over his face, keeping the skin taunt by holding it in between my thumb and index finger. "Prim is looking forward to having dinner." I say.

"She is?"

"Yeah," I nod, washing the razor under the faucet. "She really likes you."

"I really like her." Peeta replies.

"She's too young for you." I scowl.

"Damn. I'll have to settle for the other Everdeen girl."

"My _Mom_?" I ask, turning my nose up in disgust. "Gross."

"Yeah, defiantly your Mom," Peeta says, trying to keep his face still as he speaks. "No, I'm talking about you."

"Me?" I ask, feigning surprise. "What? Really?" Peeta rolls his eyes. I tilt his head back and run the razor down his neck, and end up catching the edge of it on his skin.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Yep," I say, removing the last of the hair. Peeta winces. I've cut him again. It's his fault for moving. "Sorry." I apologise, stepping back a little to admire my work. There's a little left over on his jaw line, so I move in close again to get rid of it. Suddenly I'm aware of how close he is to me. I can feel his breath on my neck, and his hand is burning into my hip, sending shockwaves down to my toes.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks warily. I blink, realising that I've just been standing there, focused on his breath on my neck and his hand grasping my hip. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I put the razor down, using a hand towel to wipe the leftover shaving foam away. My hands are shaking as I rip up some toilet paper and place is gently on the places where I've caught his skin. "Are you alright?" Peeta continues, his eyes locked on mine. "Hey, your hands are shaking. What's wrong-" I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. The sigh that escapes my lips is one of relief. Peeta's other hand clasps my hip, drawing me closer, in between his legs. I rest my forearms on his bare shoulders, leaning into the kiss. Peeta groans, and the sound makes heat pool in my stomach. _What's happening to me? _

"Katniss," Peeta murmurs, breaking the kiss off. "It isn't that I don't want to make out with you, but the bathroom isn't exactly a pleasant place." I bite my lip, the taste of him lingering on my lips. 'Making out with you'. That one statement makes me weak at the knees, like some townie schoolgirl. Making out is something I've only heard people giggling about in hushed tones in the hallways; it's a very teenager-y thing, making out. _You've done more than making out. Much more. _The voice in my head taunts. I push those thoughts to the back of my mind. Peeta has caused me to become a blushing mess.

"Sorry," I say, my cheeks turning red with embarrassment. "I don't know what came over me."

"You were overwhelmed with how handsome I am." Peeta jokes. I blush even more, staring down at the floor, ignoring the voice in my head that's telling me that '_actually, that was what happened', _and smoothing my dress.

"Sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" Peeta chuckles. He still hasn't removed his hands.

"I, uh, I don't... I thought... I don't know. Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"Sorry," I blurt out. Peeta gives me a pointed look. "S-"

"Let me guess... _sorry_?" He asks. I shove his arm and he laughs.

"Believe it or not, but you did that better than I did the first time I had to." He says, standing and admiring my handiwork.

"Really?" I ask, washing the razor again.

"You did well."

"Thanks."

"Haven't you done it before?"

"No, but I'm plucked birds and removed the skins of animals. You have to have a steady hand so that the blade doesn't cut through the skin. Whole pelts sell better." I shrug my shoulders.

"So you used your hunting knowledge as guidance to shave my face?" Peeta asks, running his hand over his clean jaw.

"You said I did well."

"Well for someone who slaughters wild dogs."

"Among other things." I tell him. Peeta rolls his eyes beside me. I meet his gaze in the mirror. Downstairs, we hear the doorbell ring.

"Do you want me to answer it?" Peeta asks. I nod.

"Yeah, please." We go downstairs. I head for the kitchen to check on the food and Peeta goes to answer the door. I listen to him greeting my family to our home, exchanging pleasantries and offering the hang up their coats. Ever the perfect host, whereas I'm the sour one who doesn't like anyone.

"Katniss!" Prim cries. I turn just in time for my sister to throw her arms around me, her fingers barely touching as she manoeuvres around my stomach.

"Hey," I say, squeezing her tight to me. "How's your Christmas been so far?"

"It's good! Rory bought me some ribbons."

"_Rory Hawthorne?" _I ask. Prim blushes.

"Your sister has got admirers all over the district," Mom speaks up. I look up at her as she places a box on the table. Prim squirms. "But Rory had the guts to actually to do something about it." I turn to Prim with a questioning glance.

"He asked me to the New Year festival."

"Rory's liked you for ages, Prim. You shouldn't be embarrassed." I say. Prim rolls her eyes, but I can tell that she's smitten. Mom comes up beside me and squeezes my shoulders.

"How's it been?" She asks, her blue eyes soft. She's put on weight. Not a lot, but enough to notice how her cheeks seem fuller. That answers my worry of whether they're eating well.

"It's been good." I nod, leaning my hip against the countertop.

"Peeta still being a gentleman?"

"Do you really think he'd be anything else?" I raise and eyebrows. Mom chuckles.

"And what about the baby? Everything going okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. The baby's fine, but I'm not. I've got ridiculous cravings."

"They can't be any more ridiculous than mine," Mom says, folding her hands together. "When I was pregnant with you, I wanted nothing else but _roasted _–not baked or fried or mashed- but _roasted_ Katniss tubers, and oranges. Your poor father was at his wits end. He could get the Katniss, no problem, but it was the oranges that he couldn't get."

"What did he do?" I ask. Mom and Dad never talked much about pregnancy, but they did give me the sex talk when I was ten. Back then I didn't understand why on Panem _anyone _would want to do that, or how a baby came from the act. Ten was the standard age in the Seam to be given the sex talk, because by the age of twelve many of the Seam children were doing... _stuff _with other kids. I'm not sure about what happens in the Merchant Quarters, though Madge came into school one day absolutely mortified, explaining to me how her father had paid someone to come in and give her a lesson in the world of sex. _"I'm never eating a cucumber again." _She had said, holding her head in her hands.

"He picked apples and told me to 'for God's sake, just pretend they're oranges'."

"Did you?"

"No." Mom smiles fondly at the memory. I laugh.

"With Primrose I ate meat. Lots of it. I think I decimated about half the forest by the time she was born."

"No, I remember Dad saying something about that. He said that the amount of animals in the forest used to be way higher before Prim was born." I say. Mom shakes her head, laughing as her cheeks redden.

"Peeta told me that he loves me." I say quietly, watching my fiancé and sister chat at enthusiastically. Mom turns to face me, her face serious.

"What did you say?"

"I said that I think I loved him."

"Is that true?"

"N-I don't know. Partly," I confess, wringing my hands. "He's amazing in every way. I like being around him, and I'm actually not afraid of my future anymore."

"You love him, Katniss, I can tell," Mom says knowingly. "I know it's scary, scary not knowing how to let your emotions go. I know it's scary putting all your trust in one person. But I know that you love him."

"I am scared." I say.

"Why? What is there to be scared of?"

"Everything! I don't want to tell him I love him, because he loves me more than I will able to love him."

"You'll never know if you don't try." Mom says, smiling kindly at me.

* * *

The evening goes smoothly, filled with laughter, stories, and lots of food. Peeta has outdone himself, serving up the turkey I shot with delicious vegetables, lashings of gravy and sunflower seed stuffing. As Peeta, Mom and Prim chat, carefree and happy, I find myself deep in thought, thinking over my mother's words. I told the truth- I am terrified to completely bare myself. Peeta loves me, I know that, and even with this information I'm still cautious. I've relaxed a lot during my time with Peeta- his presence is calming and you can't help but trust him- but to finally tell him _and _myself that I'm actually _in _love with this man is something I'm hesitant to do.

But I have to try. I have to push my fears aside and try.

"Peeta, this is too much." My Mom says, staring at the food with wide eyes.

"I don't mind, really." Peeta shakes his head, offering Prim some vegetables. She nods her head eagerly. It breaks my heart. All these years, and this is the first one since Dad's death where we've had full tummies. Usually we'd eat dried bird or squirrel or whatever meat we had, along with grains and mint tea.

"We have nothing to offer you in return."

"Mom, we don't mind. If we didn't want you to eat our food, we wouldn't have invited you," I say bluntly. Mom purses her lips sadly, but it makes her cheekbones more prominent. She still looks like a skeleton, despite the weight she's put on. "Eat. Please."

* * *

From then on the meal is free from any of us rejecting food. Prim's eyes are bigger than her stomach, and despite all the food she's eaten, she manages some of the chocolate cake that Peeta brought over from the bakery. We migrate to the living room, Prim sitting in front of the fire, the flames lighting up her golden hair. Mom sits in the overstuffed armchair that sits in the corner of the room, and I curl up beside Peeta on the sofa, curling my toes into the cushions, one hand on my stomach. Mom reveals a housewarming gift.

"I know it's a little late... but I thought it were better to give you it now, rather than never." She says, pushing the box into Peeta's hands.

"Mrs Everdeen..." He protests.

"She's not gonna let you take it back, Peeta. Just take it." Prim pipes up from beside the fire.

"It's true." Mom smiles. Peeta glances at me. I nod encouragingly, sitting upright to see what's inside the box. Wrapped up in paper is the dinner set she was given after marrying Dad. The plates- although slightly chipped- are in good condition, the plain enamel spruced up with blue etchings of birds, flowers and various other flora and fauna. I take one of the plates, turning it over carefully in my hands. Written on the middle in tiny, barely visible letters, are Mom and Dad's initials, along with the length of their marriage. It breaks my heart to see how short a time they had as husband and wife. It should've been longer.

"We can't accept this." I say, placing the plate back and shaking my head.

"Katniss..."

"No, Mom. This is too much. You've had it for so long, why would you pass it on?"

"Because my eldest daughter is getting married to a lovely young man, and I want to pass it on to a place where it will be used, not kept locked up in a cupboard.

"I don't know what to say," I reply, stunned by her confession. Peeta squeezes my hand. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Mom says. "Look on the back again; I don't think you saw it." I frown, picking the plate out of the box again and holding it out into the light. Underneath Mom and Dad's initials are the letters 'P.M and K.E'. I gasp, rubbing my thumb over the group of the letters. Somehow, it feels like a blessing- as if Dad was here to approve of my marriage to Peeta.

"Did you do this?" I ask, astounded.

"Heavens, no. Peeta did." I turn to my fiancé. He holds his hands out in a protective gesture.

"I couldn't say no," He says. "Prim said that she'd get Lady to attack me if I didn't do it."

"Prim!" I say, exasperated. My sister grins.

"I wouldn't let her actually _hurt _him. Maybe just bruise him up a bit."

"When did you start _threatening_ people?"

"As if you've never threatened anyone," My sister retorts. I scowl. She smirks, knowing that she's won. "And open the other package. It's from me." Peeta pulls out a small parcel that's been wedged in beside the dinner set and hands it to me. I open it cautiously. Prim groans.

"It's not rigged to explode or anything." She rolls her eyes.

"Well, we'll never know with you," I say. She sticks her tongue out at me. But when I pull out the tiny baby grow, pale yellow and feather-soft, my annoyance at my sister's... sassiness... melts away. "Prim, this is beautiful." I whisper, turning it over in my hands. Sewn in green thread, on the front of the baby grow, is the words 'I Love My Aunt'. I raise my eyebrows and look at her. She grins.

"I made it all myself."

"There's a hat and mittens and booties as well." Peeta says, pulling said items out of the box.

"She did all this herself?" I ask, looking to my mother for confirmation.

"Yep. Started it a few weeks ago." Mom nods.

"I love them, thank you." I say.

"I see that you've left them in unisex colours," Peeta comments. "But I can't see that you're not bothered by whether it's a he or a she."

"It has to be a girl."

"And what if it's a boy?" Peeta asks.

"I guess I'll have to learn to love it." Prim says. I stand and pull Prim into a hug.

"Thank you, Prim. They're lovely." I mumble, overcome with emotion.

"Make sure it's a girl." Prim tells me.

"I'll try my best." I laugh, but tears are streaming down my cheeks.

"Don't cry!" Prim says. "Peeta, look what you've done!" My fiancé's eyes widen. Poor guy, he doesn't know what to do with my sister and her sarcastic ways. Prim and Rye would be an equal match, I'm sure. Peeta pulls me into his arms, rubbing my back soothingly.

"Why are you crying?" He asks, his voice loud in my ear. I sniff, a smile on my face even though I'm sobbing hysterically. How attractive.

"Because the gifts are so b-beautiful." I say. Peeta chuckles in my ear. I bury my face into his chest, inhaling his scent to help calm myself.

"Does she cry all the time?" My Mom asks softly. I pull away, wiping my eyes and laughing.

"She cried a few weeks ago," Peeta says. "Because she didn't want to cut up the baby rabbit she'd shot." I laugh even harder, remembering the look on Peeta's face when he came into the kitchen to find my slumped against the cabinets, a knife in my hand and fat tears rolling down my cheeks.

"It was so adorable." I say, trying to explain myself.

"So you have no problem killing deer and boar, but when it comes to fluffy baby rabbits you're reduced to a sobbing mess?"

"Obviously!" I exclaim. Mom, Prim and Peeta laugh, and I lean into Peeta's side. He wraps his arm around my shoulders.

The sun has just disappeared over the mountains when Mom and Prim decide to get going.

"It's dark and cold. I don't want to slip up on the ice I couldn't see." Mom says, buttoning her coat.

"Thank you for the dinner." Prim adds. I give her a hug and she even hugs Peeta, who, after getting over his momentary surprise, hugs her back with a laugh.

"Thanks for coming," I say, hugging Mom tight. "And for the presents. They're truly wonderful."

"Use them well, I know I didn't." My mother says.

"We will." I say sincerely.

"And from what I've seen tonight, you and Peeta are like two peas in a pod. You love him Katniss, don't be afraid." I bite my lip, considering her words.

"What should I do?"

"Whatever feels right." Mom says simply, before moving over to Peeta, whispering something into his ear that makes him turn as red as a tomato and patting him jovially on the back before leaving. I shut the door, glad to shut off the icy wind that's filling the hallway.

"What did my Mom say to you?" I ask Peeta. He stammers something, before scampering of into the kitchen. "Peeta?"

"I should tidy up. Put away the leftovers." He mutters, obviously trying to avoid answering my question.

"Peeta, what did she say?" I persist.

"Nothing."

"It was more than nothing. You went bright red." I say, stalking him into the corner. He places the dishes into the sink and reaches to turn on the tap. I grab his wrists, yanking them away and forcing him to look at me.

"Katniss..."

"Peeta. Tell me what she said."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know what _my_ _mother_ said to you that made you go so red." I say, arching an eyebrow.

"Let me go." Peeta says, looking down at my hands on his wrists.

"No. Not until you tell me what Mom said-" Peeta sighs heavily, before pulling his arms easily out of my hands, and backing me against the wall, taking _my _wrists in one hand and pinning them above my head. I gasp, utterly defensiveness under his hands and gaze.

"Do you really want to know?" He ask, his eyes blazing.

"Yes!"

"She said that it was safe to have sex until the very end of pregnancy." Peeta says hastily, a cheeky smirk on his lips. My eyes widen and I look away from his face.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"That's awkward," I say. "I can't believe she actually said-" Peeta cuts me off again by pressing his lips to mine. My head clunks against the wall with the force of the kiss, and Peeta scrabbles to hold my head, letting go of my hands in the process. I push him away from me with such force that he stumbles backwards into his chair.

"Katniss, I'm sorry. Was that too much?" He asks worriedly, his blue eyes wide, his chest expanding and collapsing dramatically.

"So she actually said it was safe?" I ask, walking across the room towards him.

"Uh... yeah," Peeta says, his brow furrowed. I take a deep breath and lean down to kiss him, straddling his lap. "Whoa, Katniss, what are you doing?" He asks, slightly breathless, as I tilt his head back to press kisses down his neck.

"I... I want you, Peeta." I whisper, holding his face in my hands and slanting my mouth against his. My heart is hammering violently in my chest and my head is spinning but I soldier on, determined to show Peeta that I will love him. That I am _not _afraid. That I, Katniss Everdeen, will and can show her fiancé- the boy who became a man in matter of minutes, who loves her, who wants to care for her and the child she carries- that she loves him too.

"You do?" Peeta asks, unsure of himself.

"Yes. Please say you want me too." I say, fighting- and failing- to keep the desperate tone from my face.

"Katniss, I've never stopped wanting you." Peeta says. I smile, pushing his hair from his face and kissing him again.

All the other kisses we've shared up until this moment pale in comparison to this. This kiss is fiery, sultry and passionate and leaves me craving more than just Peeta's lips on mine. I think about the feel of his hands on my breasts, of his mouth exploring my bare skin, and sigh, digging my nails into Peeta's shoulders. Peeta groans, his hands resting on my waist, and opens his mouth, allowing me to explore every inch of his mouth with my tongue. I'm inexperienced with the whole foreplay thing, but from the way Peeta is reacting, I can see that I'm not doing too badly of a job. I find that the feeling of Peeta's tongue fighting against mine is pleasant, instead of as disgusting as I had imagined it to be. All those times when I simply wondered about kissing a boy, I always thought it would be Gale. No one else. But I don't love Gale in the way that I love Peeta, and I suppose that that is the difference.

I love Peeta, not Gale.

I moan in delight when Peeta tears his lips away from mine and kisses my neck, sucking on the tender skin below my ear. He's going to leave a mark that I'll regret in the morning, but right now all I can think about is the person beneath me. Something is pressing against my thigh. A sense of accomplishment washes over me, knowing that I've caused Peeta to become this turned on, that _I _did that. That I'm sexy enough, maybe, to make a man react in this way.

Acting almost on instinct, I roll my hips down, pressing my centre against his crotch, and Peeta hisses at the motion as I whimper, my panties rubbing against me. Peeta sucks his breath in through his teeth. His jaw is clenched tightly. I rub my thumb over it, as if I could erase the tension below his skin.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt it- you?" I ask. Peeta chuckles, shaking his head.

"No, it just felt... overwhelming," He says. I duck down, hiding my face as a red-hot blush creeps over my skin. "Did it feel good to you?"

"No."

"Oh."

"It didn't feel good, it felt amazing." I say. Peeta kisses me again, standing and pulling my legs around his narrow waist.

"How far do you want to go?" He asks, walking towards the staircase.

"Upstairs would be nice." I say. Peeta laughs this time, his stomach heaving.

"No, I mean how far do you want to go with _this_? With all this kissing."

"Oh! Right- I uh, I don't know." I babble, flustered and embarrassed.

"If you want to stop, just say. Okay?" Peeta says, carrying me into our bedroom. I nod. "I'll stop if you want me to, I promise."

"I trust you, Peeta. You won't hurt me," I whisper, sucking on his bottom lip gently. "P-please don't hold back." He spins us around and presses me against the closed door, thrusting his hips into the cradle of my thighs. The doorknob rattles. I try to push myself further down onto him, wanting to feel the same tightening between my legs that I felt downstairs, rolling my hips against Peeta's.

"Can I take your dress off?" Peeta asks.

"Do whatever you want."

"No, Katniss, I want you to _want _to do this." Peeta says, his eyes smouldering, turning dark- almost black- with lust.

"I do want this, Peeta." I say, sliding down onto my own two feet in front of him. Peeta takes the hemline of my dress and pulls it off me. I lift my arms in the air to help, and Peeta kisses me while the dress is around my arms, rendering me weak against his touch. I yank the dress off, throwing it down onto the floor.

"That dress suits you," Peeta says. "But I think I prefer it when you're not wearing it a all." I grin against his lips, sliding my hands over the wide expanse of his chest, unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt and pulling it over his head, laughing when it gets stuck on his ears. He grabs my waist, twirling me around so that we're nearer to the bed. I push him down and climb on top of his, sitting on his stomach and mapping out his skin with my hands like I did a few nights ago. His hands rest on my waist, watching my face intently, before his fingers creep round, tracing the line of my spine, to the clasp on my bra. He fumbles with it momentarily but eventually undoes it. I let it slide down my arms, and the look on Peeta's face makes me cover my chest with my arms, self-conscious.

"I want to see you. Don't cover yourself up." He says softly, removing my arms and leaving me bare.

"It isn't anything you've seen once before." I whisper.

"Twice, actually." He winks.

"Yup, who could remember _that _night?" I ask.

"No one- we were too drunk to remember." Peeta smirks.

"Well, we're not drunk now, so let's make this memorable." I say, pressing circles over his skin.

"I plan on doing nothing else." Peeta says, his hand moving up to cup my breast.

"They're so small." I mumble. Peeta's hands are large, baker's hands, but they cover my breasts easily. Compared to other girls, especially those from town, (though there are quite a few Seam girls who have busts to be proud of), I'm practically flat-chested. I only started wearing bras because everyone laughed at me in the changing rooms at school. If I shaved my hair short, I could probably pass as a man.

"They're perfect, Katniss," Peeta soothes. "You're perfect." He leans forward, sucking my nipple into his mouth and I arch my back, running my hands through his hair. He hums contently, the vibrations making me moan. He flips us over so that I'm lying beneath him and kisses down my stomach, his lips moving further south than they've ever gone before. He hooks his fingers over the top of my pants and looks up at me questioningly. I nod an affirmative.

Slowly but surely he pulls my pants down, leaving me in my panties. I kick the pants off my ankles pressing my legs together, worried about the network of pink scars that run down my left thigh, stretching back to where the curve of my ass starts.

Peeta notices them, of course, and runs his hands over my calves. Goosebumps prickle my skin, but not because I am cold. I'm very much on fire. "Where'd you get these?" He asks, his lips turning down into frown.

"About a year after I met Gale in the woods I was out there on my own. I had caught a deer and was dragging it back to the fence when I heard dogs coming. I was determined to get the deer up the tree first, and just as I started climbing, the dogs appeared and chomped down on my leg. Gale was looking for me at the time, thank God, and pulled me out to safety."

"You could've died."

"I could've. Mom patched me up, and I was up and walking within the week, but the scars and lesson learnt were permanent."

"Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore," I say, tracing my hands over his lower back, tracing the serrated scars his mother gave him tenderly. "We match... see?" I say, motioning to his back in comparison to my scars.

"We match." Peeta repeats in a hushed tone, kissing me on the lips again. I curl my toes around the top of his pants, reaching down between our bodies to unbutton and unzip the garment, pulling it down. He pulls it down, letting the dark material puddle around his feet.

Despite my desperate attempts at not looking, my eyes wander down, down, down, fixing on the tent of his boxers. Peeta clears his throat and I tear my eyes away, a heated flush spreading down my neck.

"Sorry." I say sheepishly. Peeta grins and crawls forward- propping himself up on one arm as to not cage me in- and kisses steadily down my neck, down my chest and over my stomach.

"May I?" He asks, his hands resting on my hips, tracing the material of my underwear. I reach up, across the bed, and switch off the lamp on my bedside table. The room is plunged into darkness, with only the butter-yellow light of the oil lamp outside in the street and the light of the moon to help us see. I can still find Peeta in the darkness, make out the outline of his body, watch the darkened orbs of his eyes as they stare down at me.

"Go ahead," I whisper. Peeta tugs my panties down. I lift my hips from the mattress to help him, feeling the material slide over my legs. Peeta inhales sharply and I watch his face. He looks stunned, amazed. My stomach clenches in anticipation of what is to come. _It's only fair _I think to myself, pulling his boxers down with my feet. Peeta crawls forward- the mattress dipping under his weight, and kisses up my leg, his lips getting closer and closer to where I want him to be, to where I _need _him to be, skipping over my centre teasingly. "Please." I beg him.

Without warning, his lips are on me, covering me completely, and I moan along with Peeta. The sound echoes through me and I whimper, conflicted as to whether I should rock my hips upward to feel it again or to wait for him to continue.

I don't have to wait, however, before he drags his tongue upwards, parting my folds with his fingers.

"Fuck." I hiss, clenching the blanket beneath me in my hands. Peeta thrusts his tongue into me, tasting me, drawing a choked gasp from my throat. He does it again, obviously satisfied with my response, and reduces me to a squirming mess within seconds. My hips buck up against his mouth when his tongue dances on my clit, pleasure building up inside me, heat pooling like a flash-flood in my belly, rising further and further like a wave. My thighs snap together, holding his lips against me as I come, my back arching against the bed. Peeta laps at me the entire time, and I have to push his head away when I open my eyes.

"Was that okay?" He ask. I squint up at him panting in response.

"You have to be kidding me," I say. Peeta smiles, though it appears to be strained. He's been focusing all his attention on me, giving me pleasure, and I've left him high and dry, so to speak. I sit up, my arms feeling like lead, and grasp him in my hand. He groans. "Do you want me to...?" I ask.

"Only if you want to." Peeta says, ever the gentleman. I lick my lips. For once in his live, can't he be just a little bit selfish?

"Come here." I say, pulling him up my body. He leans down to kiss me, slow and soft, and explores my chest with gentle caresses. I wrap my legs around him, feeling his length against my thigh. I tense, my hips twitching in apprehension.

"Katniss, if you don't want to carry on- if you want to stop now, I will."

"No, you've done that for me. If you don't want me to go down on you, this is the least I can do." I say, fighting to keep my tone level and strong as I speak. Peeta blushes- actually blushes- at my rather crude way of putting the act.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." I nod, kissing him again.

"No condoms this time."

"No condoms any of the time." I joke. Peeta grins against my lips, and holds himself up above me. From this position I can really see just how big he is. From his broad shoulders down to the 'v' of his hips, he's like a blonde-haired Adonis. He looms over me, all pale skin and thick muscle and soft golden curls that really need a cut. Fear strikes through me. He's heavy, he's strong. He has the potential to harm me. But he's a gentle giant, I suppose. He promised to look after me.

Our soft pants and rapid gasps and shaking moans fill the room, and I dig my fingers into his sides, feeling his abdominal muscles clenches and shift as he moves above me, sliding his tongue over my bottom lip. I can taste myself on him. It's weird, and I don't think like the taste. Peeta doesn't seem to mind, however. The feeling of him rubbing against me makes me dizzy, but I roll my hips up against him as he grinds down onto me. The contact makes me cry out, mewling into his ear as a groan rattles through him.

He positions himself at my entrance, face creased in concentration, and I take a deep, steadying breath.

"If I hurt you, say something." He says, kissing me as he pushes in, parting my folds slowly. I grimace, digging my nails into his arms, the feeling of him stretching me unfamiliar. I don't remember feeling this that fateful night so long ago, but I guess we were too intoxicated to feel anything. Eventually our hips are flush, and Peeta pauses, gathering me in his arms. I bury my face into his neck, his skin glistening with sweat, and gasp, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

Yes, it does hurt. It's a pinching, squeezing feeling that makes me whimper plaintively. I feel so full, like I've been missing something this entire time, and now I'm complete.

"Are you okay?" Peeta asks, shifting to look at me. The movement forces his deeper inside me and he can't help but moan. I, on the other hand, wince, the feeling unfamiliar. My body is not welcoming the intrusion as much as I want it to.

"J-just stay still. Please- for a m-minute." I whisper, slowly shifting my hips in order to accommodate him.

"Oh, Katniss." Peeta whispers, his eyes sorrowful. "I'm hurting you, we have to stop." He begins to pull out and I pull him to me, wrapping my limbs around him.

"No, please. It's okay," I say, closing my eyes. "You're just bigger than I expected," Peeta shudders at my words and I kiss his neck. "Just move slowly." He nods, kissing me again and pulling out. The outwards slide feels strange- alien and slippery- but when he pushes back in, I know that it feels right. Peeta continues to thrust at a steady pace, and I grip him tightly to me, crying softly into his skin, pleasure stretching through me.

"Katniss." Peeta gasps, grasping my hips tightly as his thrusts become more erratic.

"Don't stop." I say. He moans, pushing into me forcefully, biting down on his bottom lip. The sound of our skin slapping together makes me shudder, and I feel something strange rushing through me. My whole body is tingling, and even though I want to fight the feeling, I tell myself that it's as good thing. And it feels right.

"Are you close?" Peeta asks.

"Yes," I gasp. "Are you?" He doesn't answer but continues to push into me, again and again. The pain I felt earlier on has been replaced by pleasure, and before I know it, he's driven me over the edge. Peeta follows soon after- emptying himself inside me with a groan. He withdraws and lies beside me, his breathing ragged.

"Wow." He says.

"Wow is an understatement," I say, feeling wobbly and tingly. "Thank you."

"What for?" Peeta pants.

"For this. For everything." I say.

"Thank you for not hating me completely." Peeta replies. I laugh, but my chuckle is broken by a yawn. Peeta pulls me to his side, covering us with a blanket, and kisses my temple.

"I love you." He whispers.

I take my time before answering. "I love you too."

"Was that real?"

"Yes, Peeta. That was very real." I smile, before sleep consumes me and I'm pulled under, my body buzzing in the aftermath of our lovemaking. The baby kicks under my hand. Peeta is a comforting anchor behind me.

Yes, I do love him. I know that now. He knows that now.

I've accepted that now.


	37. Chapter 37: Oblivion

**Thank you for all the reviews and death threats regarding Peeta ;D**

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Three or four years ago, my teenage hormones were just coming into play and I could barely _look_ at Katniss without busting a nut in my pants or go a day without a cold shower. I thought that, finally, I had gotten control of myself aged seventeen.

But Katniss Everdeen is lying next me- _naked _–and we just had sex. When I say just had sex, I mean had sex the night before. But it doesn't feel that way. I'm still coming down from that high.

I kiss my fiancé's neck and she squirms under my touch, still half asleep, rolling over onto her side to face me, her grey eyes wide and a lazy smile on her lips.

"Did last night really happen?" She asks timidly.

"What do you think?" I ask, my eyes roving her naked body. She blushes and pulls the blankets up to cover herself, tucking them around her shoulders. I pull her close, resting my chin on the top of her head. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Katniss asks, tracing shapes on my chest with her index finger.

"I dunno... You don't have any regrets about last night?"

"Peeta," Katniss starts, tilting her head back so that she can look at me fully. Her eyes are smouldering, her hair spread about her like spilt ink, and her lips are pink and plump. She's beautiful. "The last time I woke up in your bed _naked, _I freaked out, ran away, and regretted everything that I assumed had happened," I smile and she shifts, moving closer to my face, and the movement causes her breasts to scrape against my chest. I swallow. _Keep control, Peeta. _"But I don't regret anything now."

"Really?"

"Really," Katniss nods her head. "I have no regrets, not anymore."

"It takes a lot to have no regrets." I say.

"You must have done something right." Katniss grins, pushing herself upright and kissing me. My hands find their way to her waist and I pull her flush to me, and the little whimper that escapes from her throat make me groan. The way Katniss is moving against me isn't helping the situation downstairs, and I try to think of anything that could distract me, anything at all, but Katniss is everywhere. In the air, in my skin, in my heart, in my head. I can't ignore her. When she pulls away, her lips are shiny and swollen, and I gasp when her hand sneaks down my body to grasp me tightly.

"Katniss..." I say, gritting my teeth.

"I want to, Peeta. And I think you want to." She says, kissing down my chest, over my stomach, lower and lower under the blankets until:

"Fuck." I hiss, the feeling of her mouth over me is overwhelming, so much better than I could ever have imagined. Katniss hums contently, the sound vibrating through me, and I close my eyes, my head dropping down onto the pillow. She continues to work, swirling her tongue around the tip of my cock before sucking in her cheeks and bobbing her head up and down my length. I throw my arm over my eyes, trying my hardest to stop my hips bucking up.

"It's okay, Peeta. Let go." Katniss says from the end of the bed, and her hand pumps the base of my cock, her mouth working at the top. Moans escape from my lips despite my efforts to stop it, my hips bucking off the bed. Katniss isn't fazed, and lets me thrust up against her face, sucking in her cheeks as tight as she can.

"K-Katniss... I'm gonna come." I warn her. She grips my thigh, her nails digging in, and it's this feeling that sends me over the edge, groaning as I come. What a good way to start the day. Katniss swallows and crawls back up the bed to lie beside me, her cheeks flushed.

"You d-didn't have to... uh... swallow."

"I know."

"You didn't have t-to do any of that."

"I wanted to. I enjoyed last night, Peeta. It's only fair."

"This isn't some sort of competition- that we have to be equal." I say. Katniss shrugs her shoulders.

"Why are you complaining? I've just given you head, and you're _complaining._" She barks out a short laugh.

She's right though. Katniss has had sex with me and given me head and I do in response is complain. Not only is it rude, but it's also incredibly stupid. I can practically hear Rye and Fen laughing at me, asking me for the reason behind my protests. But I do have a reason. And a good one, it would seem. Katniss is fragile, I know that, even though she tries to hide it. I know that she's careful of where she places her heart, and who she hands it to, so her giving me all that trust is something pretty remarkable.

"Did you mean it?" I ask, squeezing my eyes shut, almost dreading her answer. "When you said that you loved me?"

Katniss is silent for a long time, and I begin to panic. Have I scared her off? Pushed it too far? Brought it up too soon? "Yes. I meant it." She finally says, her voice steady. My heart swells in my chest. _She meant it. _

"You well and truly love me?" I ask. I know I'm being a big sappy romantic, sounding 'like a right pussy' (as Rye would tenderly put it) but this is important. I want to know where Katniss stands when she says she loves me. Loving someone and being _in love _with someone are two very different things.

"I think- I _know_ that I do... Mom said that she could see it in my eyes over dinner yesterday. She said that she could tell," Katniss takes a deep breath, burying her face in my chest. She sighs before saying something else, but her words are muffled against my skin.

"Whoa, Katniss. I can't hear you." I tell her, rubbing gentle circles over her slender shoulder with my thumb. Katniss moves her head so she can speak freely.

"I was scared, okay? Scared that you didn't love me in the same way or that _I _didn't love you in the same way. I _am_ scared. I've seen what love can do to people and how it tore my family- or what was left of it- apart and left empty shells behind and I didn't know if I could handle loving someone that much because people _always leave, _Peeta. They worm their way into my heart and then they _leave. _They always go and I've left to pick up the pieces and start again."

"Katniss-" I say, trying to stop her rant.

"You've always been the nice guy who would smile at me at school or in town even if you were with your friends or if I was looking like shit because I hadn't eaten. I thought it was weird that you always smiled because there was absolutely nothing to smile about!"

"Katniss, stop-"

"All this time and I never once thanked you for saving my life, Prim's life and Mom's life with that bread because I knew that if I got close enough to really thank you, I would become attached to you. I would feel in debt to you. And I didn't want you to leave, Peeta. I never want you to leave because-"

She's beginning to hyperventilate, her eyes wide and frightened as she babbles on and on so I kiss her. She lets out a surprised little squeak from being cut off so abruptly and so suddenly, but as I grasp her face in my hands, I feel her jaw relax as she kisses me back. Her hands curl into fists on my chest and I pull away, resting my forehead against hers to wait for our breathing to slow.

"Because I've grown so attached to you-" Katniss continues. I kiss her again. "And I love you too much-" I kiss her again, pushing her down onto the mattress and moving my mouth against hers in earnest. "So please don't leave me." She whispers, burying her face in my shoulder.

"Katniss, I'm never going to leave you. I'm _always _going to be here."

"Always?"

"Always." I nod in finality, kissing her slowly.

"I- I love you, Peeta."

"I know," I smile. "I love you too."

* * *

We spend the rest of the day in bed, napping, kissing, and simply talking- enjoying each other's presence. I go downstairs and bring up leftovers for us to eat and Katniss repeatedly gets out of bed, grumbling about the baby and how it's pressing down on her bladder, resulting in her needing to pee more than usual.

"I swear, I'm gonna kill it if it keeps this up." She says from the bathroom. I get up, pulling on some soft pants, and go into the bathroom where Katniss is standing in front of the mirror, tugging my shirt down over her thighs.

"Nah, you won't," I say, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her to keep her still. She rests her head on my shoulder, bringing my hands round to rest on her stomach, keeping them in place and smiling into the mirror. I kiss her neck and she shivers, leaning into me. "Four months, Katniss."

"Shit."

"And then we're gonna be in deeper trouble than we are now."

"Fuck."

"And we'll be kept up day and night by a crying infant."

"You're doing all the dirty work." Katniss wrinkles her nose.

"Like what?"

"Like changing diapers and feeding it and looking after it and cooking and cleaning."

"And what are you going to do?" I ask. Katniss rolls her eyes.

"I'm going to kick back and relax because I'm the one who pushed a baby out of my body," She remarks. "You men get it easy."

"No we don't."

"Yeah you do!" Katniss exclaims, spinning around and facing me. "You don't have PMS or have to _carry and push out _the baby and our tits get heavy and sore and our feet hurt and our backs hurt and holy fuck I'm going to hate the next few months." She exhales loudly, rubbing her eyes.

"Your tits get heavy and sore?" I ask tactfully, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, _Peeta, _boobs hurt," Katniss replies. "'Specially since I never had them in the first place."

"I like your boobs." I say. Katniss shoves me playfully.

"Of course _you _do." She says, looking down at her chest. I tilt her head back and kiss her, pressing her back against the sink. She sighs, kissing me back gently, her hands on my waist.

"I can feel the baby moving." I mumble against her lips. She looks at her stomach which is pressing against mine and smiles.

"He always moves when you're around." She says fondly, rubbing her stomach.

"He?" I ask.

"It's easier than saying he or she or it." Katniss shrugs. I kneel on the tiled floor, lift her shirt and kiss her belly.

"Hello he or she or it." I say. Katniss laughs.

"He or she can't be an it."

"Why not?" I ask. Katniss gives me a withering look. "He or she or _it _can be whatever they want to be. I'm not going to try and stop them."

* * *

For the rest of the year the district remains buried under a deep blanket of snow that replenishes itself overnight, destroying all efforts at trying to clear roads and pathways. Katniss spends her time walking around the district, buying things for the baby and for the house, desperate to rid it of the Capitol emptiness that was there when we first moved it.

While she sleeps peacefully through the night, I pull on an old pair of overalls, a worn jacket and hard hat, completing the look with a lantern. And then I walk through the Seam under the cover of darkness to endure a night's work underground. It's called the graveyard for two reasons. One, because way before the Dark Days, way before _Panem_, people used to get buried alive, so someone would be employed to listen out for the ringing of a bell in the graveyard which meant that someone was alive. And two, because it's at this time when the most deaths happen. Combined facts including the darkness and lack of electrical lights mean that more accidents happen. I haven't experienced anything horrible yet, but pray every time I am lowered into the ground that I will make it back out alive.

Imagine if I was killed deep underground, and when the Peacekeepers came round to tell the deceased miners' families of the terrible event, how confused Katniss would be. _He doesn't work in the mines! What are you talking about? _

And then she would be heartbroken, I'm sure. Torn to shreds because I had kept such a secret from her. It would be like her father dying all over again, and just when I had promised her that I would never leave her.

During the day I fight the tiredness that threatens to overtake me. I work at the bakery sometimes, but most of the time I'm with Katniss. It's a vicious circle that's doing nothing but making me tired, but I've built up a good amount of savings that will be useful when the baby arrives.

But sometimes, when I'm digging at rock to find a pitiful amount of coal for hours, only to come to the surface with a few gold coins and an aching body, it just doesn't seem worth it.

And then I come home and see Katniss and the baby growing inside her and I know that _I've _done that to her, so _I _have to be the one who makes sure she's okay.

* * *

It's the tenth of January when we wake to find that it hasn't snowed during the night. Our paths dug the day before are still there, and people are moving around the street, running errands and getting jobs done. Finally people can do what they need to do. The bakery is going to be packed for the next few days as more and more people buy food. I'm sure that many District 12 residents have begun to dig in to their emergency rations, and are now shopping to replenish their pantries.

"I'm going to the bakery today. Dad's gonna need help- it'll be busy." I tell Katniss over breakfast. My fiancé nods, leaning back in her chair and grimacing, rubbing her stomach in circles. She's nearing the third trimester of her pregnancy, which is when the real pain starts (according to the book Mrs Everdeen sent us along with a bottle of lotion from Prim that promised to get rid of stretch marks. I made the mistake of joking that you'd surely need more than a small bottle of lotion to help with all the stretch marks, and Katniss glowered at me from across the table before standing, flouncing out of the kitchen and locking herself in the bathroom.

I don't joke about it anymore.

"I think I'll head out to the Seam- see how Mom and Prim are doing. If we were snowed in here, i's going to be hell out there." She replies, stirring her bowl of porridge thoughtfully.

"Be careful."

"I'm not gonna go traipsing through the woods, Peeta," Katniss snaps, her eyes steely. "Stop fussing, for Christ's sake."

"I'm not fussing," I frown. "I was just saying to be careful in the slush."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, I just-"

"Because I'm not. You're the one who has made me fat and ugly, Peeta. Stop telling me what to do as well. I'm not an insolent child!" She stands, flying to the sink to scrape her uneaten breakfast down the drain.

"Katniss, I'm not saying that at all-"

"You meant it though, didn't you!"

"Listen to yourself-"

"Shut up! For fucks sake! Can you not see that I'm stressed? I can't sleep, I can't eat because you won't let me eat chocolate, I have to go pee every ten minutes and people stare at me like I've got four heads and orange skin! I'm not a freak from the Capitol!"

"I let you have chocolate- just not too much because it's bad for you _and _the baby." I say calmly, knowing that this is just a mood swing. She doesn't mean it, not really. Exhaustion and frustration have simply taken over.

"Fuck the baby! Fuck you! Fuck everything!" Katniss hisses, storming out of the room and up the stairs. I wait for the bedroom door to slam before climbing to my feet, putting the dishes in to soak, and following my pissed off fiancé. I open the door- thank God we haven't installed locks yet- and find Katniss sprawled out on the bed, her arms and legs spread in a star shape, a pillow over her head.

"Katniss-"

"Go away."

"Katniss-"

"Fuck off."

"Katniss-"

"Are you deaf? Get out!" She shouts. I sigh, running my hand through my hair before shutting the door. I kneel down at the foot of the bed and pull Katniss' dark green, thick woollen socks off her feet. "What are you doing?" She asks, her voice quieter but still annoyed. I don't answer, but sit on the end of the bed and pull her feet into my lap, picking up one foot and massaging it, running my thumbs up the arch repeatedly.

"Just hear me out, okay?" I ask. Katniss doesn't answer. "Look, I know that-"

"I didn't say yes!" Katniss cries.

"You also didn't say no." I reason.

"You're frustrating," Katniss grumbles into the pillow. "I hate you."

I chuckle softly, ignoring her words and continuing to massage her feet. "I know that I won't fully understand how you are feeling, but I'll try my best. I know that this is tough on you, and that you've got enough on your plate without being pregnant, but you don't mean all that shit. You're just frustrated and angry and upset-"

"Yeah, because everyone-"

"Because everyone stares and points and whispers and laughs and makes up names for you. And because you waddle like a duck when try to climb the stairs." I finish for her.

"I do not."

"You do." I say. Katniss pulls the pillow away from her face and just stares up at the ceiling.

"It hurts, you know?" She asks, pausing to blow and piece of hair from her face. "All the name-calling and gossiping. They act like I'm not there. Like I don't have ears or eyes."

"I know." I nod sympathetically, thinking as the way my fellow co-workers down at the mines shake their heads with pity and confusion when they see my blonde head among their dark haired ranks.

"Marlene called me 'Slag Queen Slut' the other day. It's nothing new; nothing I haven't heard before, but she blew up her cheeks and patted her stomach and all her friends laughed," Katniss says, her bottom lip stuck out. "And they all asked me how it was to carry around a spare tire all the time or how it was shacking up in town instead of the shit hole where I belong! Madge and Mitch turned up and got me out of it, but they still kept shouting things at me." I feel sick. Madge and _Mitch? _I knew that they were still together, but I wasn't aware that they were public with their relationship. I suppose that's what happens when you argue with your best friend and don't talk to them afterwards.

"None of that is true, Katniss." I finally say.

"It is! I'm out of place here. I should be in the Seam," She pulls her feet away and curls up into a ball. "And I am ugly and fat." She adds.

"You aren't ugly and fat."

"I'm ugly and fat and no one's gonna want me- not even you!- because I'm just trash. No one wants the teenage girl with a baby." She whispers, on the verge of tears. I stand up and move to the top of the bed to lie beside her, pulling her against my chest and rocking her slowly.

"Do you want my honest opinion?" I ask.

"No."

"Of course you're going to put on weight- that's what having a baby does to you! But by no accounts are you fat. And you are most definitely not ugly, that's for sure. In fact, I think you've never looked better," I press a kiss to her forehead. "You aren't out of place in the Merchant Quarters, it's just that everyone who lives here is old fashioned and can't accept that there is nothing wrong with someone from the Seam marrying a Merchant, or vice versa. And the Seam isn't a shit hole."

"It's just run down." Katniss says, lowering her voice.

"Was that meant to be an impression of me?" I ask.

"No..." Katniss laughs. "Why would I ever do that?"

"I have no idea." I smile. Katniss looks up and I wipe away her tears.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you and being a bitch."

"That's okay." I say.

"So you agree? That I'm a bitch?"

"No... Why would I ever do that?" I say, mimicking her tone of voice. She shoves me. I kiss her. She kisses me back.

* * *

Propped up against the wall beside the front door of the bakery is a big plastic tub. Written on a chalk board under above the tub is a short message: 'Please leave all muddy shoes in basket. Thank you'. I glance down at the empty tub. So much for that. I wipe my feet on the door mat and push open the door, the sound of the bell ringing familiar and comforting. I've missed this place.

"Peet!" Dad says from behind the counter as I work my way past all the customers. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Katniss and co?"

"They're doing fine as well," I nod my head. Moving closer to him, I gesture to the outside porch. "But that sign isn't working."

"I know," Dad sighs. "I tried."

"You need some help?" I ask. "I'm gonna be here all day."

"Really? Well, yeah. Sure. We've got a list of orders in the kitchen." Dad says, totalling up someone's orders. I don't answer him and disappear into the kitchen, hanging up my coat, washing my hands, and pulling on an apron. Fen is stoking the ovens, Rye is rolling dough, and _Mom _is washing a pan. _Mom. As is my mother. She's helping. _

"Peeta." She snaps, turning and seeing me.

"Mom. Hi." I say.

"Well don't just stand there. Get a move on. We've got a lot of orders coming in today." I nod, moving over to read the list of orders pinned to the wall. What makes me frown is the order from the Everdeen's'. They want a cake (two-tiered), with chocolate sponge in both tiers and white icing with flowers. What could it be for? Is there an occasion coming up that I don't know about? Is it Prim's birthday? Is it Mrs Everdeen's birthday?

"Is this order right?" I ask quietly, going over to Rye. He looks up at the paper and nods.

"Yeah. Err... Prim came in and asked for it. Said it was for something special." I nod and pin the list back up again. I suppose I should start making it. I hope Dad won't charge them. And if he does, that he won't charge them too much. Besides, we're practically family now.

Throughout the day Dad and Fen move in and out of the kitchen and the shop, carrying trays of still-warm loaves and buns and pastries out of the kitchen, and returning half an hour later with empty trays. Mom makes multiple batches of brownies- I have no idea how she remembered how to make them after all these years of barely helping- and they end up selling quickly. Rye perfects the method of rolling two pieces of dough into separate balls using both hands, and I bake the cake that the Everdeen's wanted. After it's cooled I sandwich them together using chocolate icing and begin to mix white icing. After layering fondant over the entire thing I start making flowers, resting my elbow on the countertop to keep my hand steady.

"How the fuck do you do that?" Rye whispers. I jump, messing up the petal I'm creating.

"_Carefully_." I say, scraping the flower off to start again. I've decided to go for Primrose flowers around the bottom of each layer, and various flowers and leaves winding their way around the entire cake. Hopefully the Everdeen's will like it.

"So, little brother, how's it going with Everdeen?" Rye asks.

"Has she kicked you out yet?" Fen queries.

"Ha-ha," I roll my eyes. "Katniss and I are doing fine."

"Fine? Really? You're telling us that you've finally moved in with the girl you've been crushing on for years and you haven't pulled out any of the cards we advised you on?"

"Come on, Peet. This is standard knowledge. Us Mellarks can't afford to be lazy when it comes to getting in that girl's pants." Fen says. I look down, fighting a smirk.

"Your pick-up lines are horrendous."

"Are not!"

"Are too," I say. " '_Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?_' That's a crap pick-up line."

"Excuse me, but our pick-up lines are the best. If you want to make a girl weak at the knees, just throw in one of those and you'll get to second base at least." Rye says.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" Fen says, sighing and fluttering his eyelashes dramatically.

"Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?" Rye adds.

"Hello, I'm a thief. I'm here to steal your heart." My oldest brother continues.

"Oh, wait. I have the best pick-up line in the whole of Panem." Rye crows.

"Jesus Christ." I mutter. Sometimes I hate having such dicks as brothers.

"Ready for it?" Rye asks, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yep, sure." I say. Fen thumps me on the back.

"Just walk up to them and say 'Hi, I have big feet'." Rye cackles, high fiving Fen.

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me that you haven't tried at least one of those lines on her?" Fen asks.

"No! I haven't! Those lines are awful and are more likely to get you a slap rather than a snog," I shake my head, moving over to the ovens with the tray of bread rolls Rye made. When I turn, both of my siblings are watching me with narrowed eyes and mischievous smirks. "What?" I ask.

"You've already slept with her, haven't you?" Fen says.

"Maybe." I blink.

"Way to go little brother!" Rye laughs, pulling me into a headlock and ruffling my hair.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Fen continues. "Congrats."

"Fuck off." I grumble. They just laugh again.

"How was it?" Rye asks.

"Jesus, Rye. She's practically your sister now. Don't be a creep."

"I'm not a creep."

"He's just concerned with the wellbeing of his brother's sex life." Fen says. Yeah, that's likely.

"Whatever, Rye. But don't you dare go and harass Katniss about this. She's in a crappy mood as it is."

"Domestic problems?" Fen asks.

"Not really. She just gets upset when people call her names and shit." I shrug my shoulders.

"Mitch came in with Undersee," Fen says. "Was talking about how some bitches in your year were being... well... bitches." I don't respond, continuing to wash pots.

"You and Mitch have been friends forever, Peeta. You should at least try to talk to him." Rye says.

"I dunno. He's pretty angry with me."

"What did you even argue about?"

"Stupid shit. It doesn't matter," I say, disappearing into the kitchen to help Dad. I refuse to think about Mitch for the rest of the day, distracting myself by helping Dad serve customers. I bake, I serve, I mop the floor. I polish the display case and the window, and even dig out an old can of paint and paint over the letters that name the bakery so they look clean and stand out more. Dad calls me down when the sun begins to set, and hands me an envelope.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Don't tell your mother. It's just a little something." My father shakes his head. I open the envelope and find a cheque for-

"Dad, no. I can't take all of this!" I protest, slipping the cheque back into the envelope and pushing it back across the counter to him.

"Peeta, I know that it must be difficult. When the baby arrives it's going to be even worse. I just-"

"I'm sorry for not working here as much as used to. I've just been busy."

"I just want to give you a piece of mind, son. You've been looking tired lately," Dad says calmly, his eyes sad. "Please, just take it. If not for you, for Katniss and my grandchild."

"Don't play the guilt card on me." I sigh. Dad places a hand on my shoulder.

"I wouldn't be playing if you just took the money." Dad raises his eyebrows. I take the money, slipping the envelope into my pocket.

"Thanks Dad."

"You're very welcome."

"Did you have a good Christmas?" I ask.

"It was lovely. It was shame that we couldn't get through to you guys though."

"There will be many Christmas that we'll be able to share in the future, don't worry." I smile. Dad nods.

"How about you? Did you get everything you wanted?"

"Yeah, I would say so." I say. I'm sure that my cheeks are bright pink right now. The smirk that works its way onto my father shows that he's guessed what I've been trying hide.

"Treat her right, son. Don't let the one you love get away. It's so much easier that way."

"I'm treating like a Queen." I say.

Dad chuckles. "I'm sure you are."

"Speaking of Katniss, I better get back. She said that she'd be at her old place today, hanging with Prim and her Mom."

"Tell her I said hello." Dad says. I pull on my coat and head out into the cold, hunching my shoulders up by my ears and hiding my face in my collar, trying to protect myself from the icy wind. It's going to be hell in the mines tonight. Absolute hell. And then I'll probably go and work at the bakery. And then the cycle will start all over again.

* * *

Note: Can anyone else hear wedding bells...? ;)


	38. Chapter 38: Union

**Thank you for all the reviews, favourites, and follows. You guys are awesome! This chapter may be confusing because instead of being in two simple Katniss vs Peeta parts, it's alternating between the two of them in order to get an understanding of how they're feeling :)**

**Sorry for the horrendous wait, I've been having a tough time lately at school and have been channelling my efforts into One Wish and simply lost track of time! (Besides, this chapter is stupidly long ;) ) Thank you for not giving up on me!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I'm watching Peeta try to balance a spoon on his nose when the doorbell rings.

"You carry on... doing whatever you're, uh, doing," I say, patting him on the shoulder and heading for the front door. I pull it open to find Fen and Rye standing there on the door step with stupid grins on their lips. "Oh, hey," I say. "What are you guys doing here so early?"

"We need to borrow your fiancé." Fen says, pushing past me and disappearing into the house.

"Your Mom and Prim are gonna be here shortly." Rye tells me with a grin, before following his older brother. Confused, I close the door and walk into the kitchen, only to find Fen and Rye grabbing Peeta by the arms and pulling him out of his seat. He still has the damn spoon in his hand.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" He asks, bewildered as he's dragged along. "Katniss?" He looks at me with wide eyes.

"Peet, stop being an asshole." Rye says.

"You're dragging me out of my house and _I'm _the asshole?" Peeta asks. I follow him and his brothers down the hallway, and over the threshold.

"Fen, can you please tell me what's going on?"I ask, tugging on Fen's arm. "Why are you taking him?"

The eldest Mellark simply grins. "Just trust us, okay?"

"That's pretty hard to do." I sigh. Fen and Rye roll their eyes. Peeta looks grumpy.

"Your folks will be here soon, and then everything will make sense."

"You can't just drag Peeta out of here and expect me to be alright with it!"

"I'm not okay with this!" Peeta says, attempting to yank his limbs free as his brothers cart him through the snow. I stumble after him, shivering at the contact with the icy slush beneath my feet before rushing back into the house, wiping my feet on the doormat.

"We'll see you tonight!" Rye says, leaving me staring after my fiancé as he's dragged down the street, kicking and fighting.

Twenty minutes later, there's another knock on the door.

"For fuck sake," I mutter, getting up from my chair and moving toward the front door. _Maybe Peeta has escaped._ Instead, I open the door to find Mom and Prim standing there, wrapped up in coats and scarves, both of them carrying big boxes. "Hi?" I challenge.

"Katniss!" Prim squeals, her eyes bright. "Madge is coming in a few minutes!"

"_Madge?_" I ask. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Prim ignores me and enters the house, scampering along, her braids thwacking me in the face as she passes.

"I Mom shakes her head and sighs. "I told them to take him back to the bakery with grace."

trust that Fenton and Rye have removed Peeta from the household?" Mom asks calmly, moving into the house, shutting the door and steering me to the kitchen.

"They dragged him from his seat." I say bluntly.

"Have you _met _Fen and Rye?" I ask. Mom smiles good-naturedly and puts her box down next to Prim's on the kitchen table. "Why is Madge coming here as well?" I ask. "What's going on?"

"We require Miss Undersee's expertise. All you need to do today is relax, Katniss."

"Let us do the work." Prim adds, rocking back on her heels with excitement. I narrow my eyes. They're all planning something, and I don't think they plan on telling me.

"I can't trust anyone until _someone _tells me what's going on. I opened the front door this morning, Fen and Rye barged past me and snatched Peeta from his seat, and then just _dragged _him down the street. Thank God he had clothes on!" I run my hands through my hair and look up. Prim is fighting a grin, her cheeks pink. Mom is looking at me with a raised eyebrow. '_Thank God he had clothes on!' Shit. _"I didn't mean it like that! I meant clothes that weren't sleeping clothes!" I rush to correct their assumptions, but Mom just shakes her head and begins to make a cup of tea. Prim takes a seat, grinning at me.

"Would you like some tea, Katniss?" Mom asks.

"Yes please." I say, scowling at my little sister. I hate being on the outside of a secret- it's even worse when _everyone_ you know is in on it except for you.

"Primrose?" Mom continues.

"No thanks." Prim replies.

"What was in the box you were carrying?" I ask Prim. She bites her lip and shakes her head.

"I'm not allowed to tell you," She says. I stand to open the box and find out myself. "No! Katniss, don't look. It's going to spoil the surprise. We've been planning this for ages." She says, pushing my hands away before I can pull the box flaps open. Frustrated, I flop back down into my seat and sip my tea in silence as we wait for Madge to arrive. When the doorbell finally rings for the third time in half an hour, Prim almost hits the ceiling. She's halfway down the hallway before I can even get out of my seat, wrenching open the door and ushering Madge into the house.

"Katniss! Hey!" Madge greets me. I stand to give her a hug. We haven't seen each other properly since school broke up before Christmas. I had assumed that I wasn't going to see her until school starts in a few days. School is something I'm not looking forward to at all.

"Hi Madge." I say. My mouth is open, ready to say 'How have you been?' but Madge gasps before I can continue, staring down at my stomach in awe, her eyes wide.

"God, Katniss. When did _this_ happen?" She asks. I lift my top and strike and pose. Under my baggy jumpers and/or Peeta's hoodies it looks smaller.

"Over Christmas." I say, looking down at my belly. I can remember when I had a flat- _almost_ _concaving_- stomach.

"Blimey," Madge breathes. "Can I touch it?"

"If you want." I shrug my shoulders. Mom comes over and presses her hands over my stomach, feeling for something, and then takes Madge's hand and pushes it against my skin. Her fingers are freezing, and I hiss when she touches them to my warm tummy.

"Feel that?" Mom asks, smiling softly.

"Ugh, yeah. Gross." Madge wrinkles her nose. Mom chuckles.

"I think that could be a shoulder." She says.

"Really?" I ask. Madge moves her hand so I can feel for myself. _My baby has a shoulder. _When and if Peeta ever returns I'll have to show him. He'll be ecstatic, I'm sure.

For the next hour, we catch up with each other, gossiping and chatting like old Merchant women. I rest my feet on the chair opposite until Prim sits down, but my sister pulls my legs back up and places them on her lap, smiling at me from across the table. Madge has brought some strawberry tart along with her and we eat it with the tea. Despite my mother's protests that it's 'disgusting and unhealthy', I melt some chocolate and pour it over my slice of the tart to satisfy my cravings.

"I bet you're glad that you're with Peeta," Madge says, eyeing me as I chew the chocolate and strawberry pastry contently, rubbing my stomach. "He can give you chocolate, at least."

"That doesn't mean he's happy to do it." I say. Madge laughs.

"How is Peeta?" My friend asks, twirling a perfect curl of blonde hair around her finger.

"He's good. Ever so tired for some reason, but he's a good fiancé," I nod my head. "How about you and Mitch?" Madge blushes and hides her face in her cup of tea.

"I didn't know that you were with Mitch," Mom says, leaning forward in her seat. "Have you told your parents?"

"Uh, they definitely know about it, but so far they haven't said anything on the subject." Madge says softly. "But hopefully they'll be alright with it. I mean, I know he isn't a high-up Capitol official or anything, but he makes me happy." Prim sighs longingly from across the table, resting her face in her palm.

"Peeta said that he had an argument with Mitch," I say. "Do you know anything about it? I'm in the dark here, and I know they're best friends."

"I'm just as clueless as you are, trust me." Madge says sadly.

"Fen and Rye said that they'd be best friends again by the end of today." Prim pipes up. Madge grins.

"I hope so. Mitch said that it was stupid shi- _stuff,_" Madge backtracks, flustered as she glances at Prim. Prim just giggles. I nudge her with my feet. She sticks her tongue at me. "Stupid _stuff. _That's what they were arguing about."

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me," Mom says gently, draining her cup and standing up to collect everyone else's. "Primrose, can you clear away the plates and wipe down the table, Madge we can take the boxes upstairs."

"Where upstairs?" I ask.

"Your bedroom. I assume Peeta put a table of some sort in there?" I frown.

"Mom, we share a room." I whisper with red cheeks, climbing the stairs and stopping her. Surely she knows this? What did she expect?

"I know," Mom smiles. "I was joking with you." I scowl and push past her, rushing around Peeta and mine's bedroom, straightening the blankets and smoothing the sheets and pushing a pair of Peeta's boxers under the bed. Madge and Mom put the boxes they're carrying on the top of my chest of drawers and Prim arrives a minute later, rolling her sleeves up. I glance frantically about the room, searching for a stray piece of clothing or leftover cup of tea that has been left behind.

"Okay, now that you've invaded my bedroom, can you tell me what's going on?" I ask, sitting down on the end of the bed. Madge grins from the doorway. Prim claps her hands and looks up at Mom.

"Do you want to tell her-" Mom starts. Prim squeals loudly and I grimace at the sound.

"You're getting married today!" My sister gushes, her lips stretched into a smile so big that I can almost see her molars.

"What?" I ask. _Married? Is this what this whole thing is about? _

"We've been planning it for a few weeks. Peeta has been taken back to the bakery to be prepped by his Dad and brothers, and you're here with us to get ready!" Madge explains further.

"We invited Peeta's mother but she refused to come." Mom shrugs her shoulders.

"_What?_" I ask, staring at the floor. "I'm getting married?"

"Yes, Katniss. You get engaged and then you get married." Prim says sarcastically. I resist the urge to kick my sister as she smiles sweetly down at me. I groan and flop back down onto the bed, watching the ceiling as I process this information. The bed tilts and squeaks when Mom sits beside me, rubbing my arm soothingly.

"Is this too sudden?" She asks gently. "If you don't want to go through with it, we'll call it off."

"It's sudden," I start. "I didn't expect that this would happen today. Peeta said that he'd get a slot for us at the Justice Building, but, honestly, I forgot about it."

"Do you want to call it off?" Prim asks. I can see that she's heartbroken at the thought of the event not happening, though she tries to hide it.

"No. I'm just in a daze." I whisper.

"A good daze?" Madge asks.

"I think so," I say, holding my stomach protectively. "I hope so."

* * *

**-Peeta-**

"Get the _fuck_ into the bakery." Fen says, pointing at the back door as if I were a stubborn dog. I shake my head. Okay, I suppose I _am_ acting like a stubborn dog, but that's beside the point.

"Why should I?" I ask, shuffling about in the snow-turned-slush that is covering the district.

"Because we fucking told you to, idiot," Rye says. I turn and glare at him. "And if you don't you're gonna have a bridezilla left standing in front of a Capitol official all alone because you refused to get your ass into the bakery."

"A bridezilla? What the hell are you talking about, Rye? That isn't even a word."

"Yeah it is."

"No it isn't," I say. "And why are you even talking about... a... _bridezilla _anyway? Who's getting married?" I trail off, my eyes wide as I read between the lines. "Oh, _fuck." _

"Yes, congrats. You're getting married today. Now get in the fucking house." Fen says, pulling the door open. Dumbfounded, I follow him into the building. Dad is waiting, sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a big grin on his face. I sigh.

"Seriously? You guys dragged me from my house to for me to get married?" I ask.

"Peet, listen," Dad begins, pushing out a chair with his foot and inviting me to sit down. "You start school in three days. You're having a baby in April. You have to study for the exam at the end of the Baby Games-"

"You took the Mellark curse way to seriously, by the way." Rye interjects. I punch his arm.

"So we thought it would be best to have you married before all this. Because knowing you two it never would've gotten done without one massive kick up the ass." Dad concludes.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I ask.

"Because it would've given the game away."

"Does Katniss know?"

"I assume she does now. Her mother, sister, and Madge Undersee are round your place right now, getting her ready."

"And I'm round here because...?" I prompt.

"Because we're making you look all pretty for your bride." Fen coos, ruffling my hair. Rye laughs. I drop my head down onto the table and groan.

What have I got myself into?

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Mom has bought some lavender soap around, and I'm currently standing in the shower letting the water run over my body, and lathering myself up with lavender bubbles. Mom, Prim and Madge are sorting out something while I wash, but all I want to do is go to sleep. The lavender is calming, and the hot water added to the mix has unknotted the muscles in my back, leaving me feeling calm and sleepy and serene.

I suspect this was Mom's aim.

I lean against the cold tiled wall and sigh. What is Peeta doing right now? I assume that his brothers managed to drag him to the bakery in one piece, though I can't be sure. Does he know that he's going to be married to me by the end of the day? I squeeze my eyes shut. In a few hours I'm going to officially become Mrs Katniss _Mellark. _It sounds foreign on my tongue, but it feels nice. The Capitol documents will be legal proof of our marriage, but it's the toasting that will represent it in a way that will feel personal to me.

_I'm getting married today._

Taking a deep breath, I shut off the water and wrap a towel around my body, stepping out onto the bathroom mat. I move over to the mirror and slip on my engagement ring, staring at myself and thinking. I know that this is right. This is the right thing to do. I love Peeta, he loves me, and it would be silly to not do this. For our child's sake, at least, I have to be brave and do this.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm panicking. Everything feels like it's falling into place the way it should, but lurking at the back of my mind are the thoughts of 'what if it doesn't work out?' and 'can I allow myself to be attached to someone like this?'. I think of Gale. All these years and I told him that I _never _wanted to get married, and definitely didn't want children. And look at me now, going back on those words and doing everything I said I wouldn't.

"Are the Hawthornes coming?" I ask, the second I step into the bedroom.

"We sent them an invitation, but there hasn't been a reply so far." Prim says. I slump against the doorframe, tears falling down my cheeks. Everything is so perfect. I'm marrying Peeta, who's the only person I can imagine myself with anymore. I have a loving family who protect me, and amazing friends. But without Gale and his family, who have been a part of _my _family since before I can remember, it will feel out of place. I can only hope that he will push all the differences that have sprouted up between us aside and join my family and Peeta's family and Madge and Mitch and whoever else is coming.

"Don't cry," Mom says, coming over and giving me a hug. "Why are you crying? This is the happiest day of your life."

"I know!" I sob. "But I'm j-just scared. I want Gale and Hazelle and P-Posy and Rory and Vick to be there. G-Gale's my best friend. I want him to be there. And what if P-Peeta backs out? What if he decides that he a-actually doesn't want to marry the Seam s-slut?" I know that I'm babbling absolute nonsense now, but I can't stop myself. "I can't raise a b-baby by myself!"

"Katniss!" Mom exclaims, stopping me in my tracks. "It's okay! You've just got pre-wedding jitters. Stop panicking, sit down, and think about what you've just said." I sit down on the bed, holding my head in my hands, my wet hair plastered around my face.

"Peeta isn't going to leave you, he loves you too much." Madge says softly, crouching down beside me.

"He'd marry you if you had nine eyes and smelled like cabbage," Prim says. "Why would he back out?"

"I d-don't know." I stammer.

"Peeta loves you. You love him. Today you're going to get married." Mom concludes.

"Okay, sorry. I'm just... worried." I apologise, wiping my tears away and taking deep, steadying breaths. Madge rubs my back consolingly. Mom dries my hair. Prim pulls stuff out the boxes. I try to picture Peeta waiting for me at the Justice Building, all blonde hair and blue eyes and wide smiles.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Katniss is _definitely _getting better treatment than me. She's probably gliding about the house, dressed in her hunting jacket and boots and ripped pants, drinking champagne (well, I hope not since she's pregnant), while Mrs Everdeen, Prim and Madge paint her nails and fix her hair and eat delicious food.

Meanwhile, I've been shoved out to the front of the shop wearing a paper crown and a shirt that says 'I'm about to get married- somebody save me' in black marker pen, undoubtedly cooked up by Rye and Fen. They also stole all the normal aprons, meaning that I had to wear the one Fen got me for my birthday.

Oh, I love my brothers.

Of course, Dad just stood by and laughed. "_This is your last day as a free man, Peeta. And you're gonna spend a good portion of it working for me" _He had said as I was pushed to the front counter.

And that's where I am now, serving customers who all give me odd looks at first glance, but once they get closer and read my shirt, they fire questions at me.

"_It's the Everdeen girl, isn't it?"_

"_How sweet! Shame about the baby though."_

"_What does your mother think of this?"_

"_You knocked her up, didn't you?"_

"_Make sure there's enough cake for me!" _

I smile and laugh all the way through it, pretending that I don't want to strangle half the people who ask me about my fiancé. The wave of customers and questions in relentless, and by the time lunch swings around I practically run to the door to turn the 'open' sign to 'close'.

"I hate every single one of you." I announce, pointing at my Dad and brothers one by one.

"I knew people would like your shirt." Rye says, giving Fen a high-five. I roll my eyes and sit at the table. Dad plates up some sandwiches and slides them across the table to each of his sons.

"You need to be ready to go to the Justice Building at 4 o'clock, though." Dad says as I take a bite of the sandwich.

"4?" I ask. "Are you guys coming back to ours afterwards for cake or something?" I drop the sandwich and scrub my face with my hands.

This morning I woke up and was simply expecting to work at the bakery all day, sleep for a few hours after a meal with Katniss, and then disappear into the night to work at the mines. I've become accustomed to the choking blackness that swallows you up in the mines, and have found myself beginning to be more comfortable around the Seam miners, even f they still glare at me.

However, I didn't wake up this morning and think that I would be dragged to the bakery, forced to work in an embarrassing outfit, only to be told that I was to get married.

"I'm sorry if this seems too sudden, or if you would've preferred to have done this your way, but this is something that both Dahlia and I think is a good thing for you," Dad turns the sandwich in his fingers. "After you are married, we have been invited to the Undersee's. They offered to hold a small dinner to celebrate. It was Madge's idea."

"But it's just us. Katniss and I- we're nothing worthy of the _Undersee _household. It's the Mayor's family for Christ's sake."

"They offered, Peeta. It was their own decision."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Does Katniss know about all this? Is she okay with it?"

"I assume so. Her mother said that she would come and find us if anything was wrong," Dad motions to my lunch. "Eat up. You've got about an hour to get ready, and then we've got to go."

"My little brother; getting married at seventeen." Fen says, shaking his head.

"It's never too late to back out," Rye says, nudging my shoulder. "Delly isn't the only one who would gladly play tonsil tennis-"

"That's enough, Rye." Dad cuts him off.

"I'm serious, Peet." Rye winks. I shove him so hard that he almost topples off his stool. Once I've finished eating, I help Dad makes cookies and cupcakes. Fen and Rye disappear to do whatever.

"

I climb the stairs, heading for the bathroom. Dad said that I could wear the old suit he had at his wedding, so many years ago. It feels strange to be back here. Whether the _good _strange is stronger than the _bad _or not, I'm yet to decide. I can still point out all the points in the corridor where Mom beat me. Although I know that it has long been washed away, I can still see the blood that covered the tiles in the bathroom. I can still see the crumbling part of the wall where Rye kicked the wall in a fit of rage. I can see the notches in the doorway that marked the height of Fen, Rye and I as we grew.

Waiting on a hook in the bathroom is the suit Dad promised. It's worn, but in good condition. Someone has stitched up the elbows many times. Most people in the district wear any items of clothes that don't have coal dust on them or are simply in good condition. Women will rent a dress that has been worn hundreds if not thousands of times before. I wonder what Katniss will be wearing. Whatever it is, I'm sure she'll look amazing. She could arrive at the Justice Building in her hunting gear, covered in animal guts and smelling of the forest and I wouldn't mind.

Along with the suit is a pair of pressed black pants, my boots (shiny and scuff-free), and the shirt I wore to the dinner that was held after the Reaping for the Baby Games. I stand in front of the mirror and shave away the stubble that has grown. I pull on an off-white wife beater, my shirt, the pants, my boots and, finally, the suit. It's a little big around the arms, but a perfect fit over my shoulders. The tie finishes the look. I step out of the bathroom.

Turning into the room that used to be mine, I trail my fingers over the wall to my left. Boxes line the walls. A single, dark green armchair with a high backrest sits in the middle of the room, facing the window. I walk forward. It smells musty in here- like it hasn't been used for years, not just a month or two.

"I knew you'd come in here." Mom's voice breaks the silence and I jump.

"Mom. I didn't know you were here-"

"Shut up with your excuses, boy," Mom cuts me off, her words sharp and precise and straight to the point. "I'm not here to hear you babble incessantly."

"What do you want?" I ask, stepping around the chair so that I can see Mom properly. She looks tiny and frail sitting in the throne of a chair, her legs curled beneath her, one elbow resting on the armrest as she stares vacantly out through the window. This is when she's at her scariest. When she is calm, vacant, nothing like the person she warps into at the drop of a hat. The calm before the storm. It usually means that she's up to something.

"Dahlia Everdeen invited me to attend your fiancé's... _bridal party._"

"You didn't go." I say, the pitch of my voice lowering, making it a statement rather than a question.

"Obviously," Mom muses. "I will not be caught with the likes of _those_ people."

"Madge Undersee is there. She's the Mayor's daughter." I input. My mother scowls.

"She shouldn't be there either," Mom closes her eyes, sighing deeply before standing. "I am, however, coming to your wedding. Your father insisted."

"Come only if you wish." I say.

"I'm coming out of choice. And I want to give you something." She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a small box.

"Another Mellark tradition?" I ask, chuckling at the previous mentions of any Mellark traditions and/or curses. Mom purses her lips and I can see that she's fighting off a small smile.

"Yes, in a sense," She says. "Your father has a pair. And with each son that was born to myself and him, another was made," She hands me the box and I open it to find a set of perfectly round, shiny silver cufflinks. Etched into the metal is a simple 'M'. "It's customary for the mother of the son to be married to give it to him. So, here you are." She clasps her hands together, holding her head up proudly.

"Thank you." I say, closing the box.

"Don't get all sentimental on me," Mom snaps, reaching a hand forward. I flinch on instinct and she pauses, curling her fingers into a fist before stretching them out again. She straightens the collar of my shirt and pats my shoulder. "I don't want your emotion-"

I take a chance and put my arms around her. She stiffens, inhaling sharply. "I know you wanted a daughter. I know you did. I'm sorry that you got me instead. But thank you for at least coming today." I say, resting my chin on her bony shoulder.

"Yes, uh... well," Mom mumbles. She pats my sides awkwardly. "You- you're welcome." I pull away and smile. Mom doesn't meet my gaze and shuffles away. I slip the cufflinks on and go downstairs. Dad is muttering under his breath at Rye, desperately trying the brush the flour from his middle son's jacket. Fen looks bored. Mom looks flustered.

"Ready to go Peet?" Dad asks.

"I think so."

We make our way through town and to the Justice Building. Dad and Mom walk ahead, leaving Fen and Rye to taunt me the entire time there.

"Are you sure?" Rye asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Yes, Rye. I'm sure."

"Because you're seventeen, okay? You've got plenty of time for all this marriage shit. Bit late when it comes to having kids, but hey, not all of us are perfect." Fen slaps my shoulder.

"I want to marry Katniss. I always have. Stop making me over think shit." I say, putting my hands deep into my pockets and hunching my shoulders. Rye and Fen laugh. We climb the steps of the Justice Building, pass through the heavy wooden door held open by a Peacekeeper and into a dark corridor. Deep red carpet covers the floor. The walls are painted a rich cream colour. All the furniture is smooth mahogany. We're directed in the right direction and told to wait outside the office while our parents finalise papers and legal stuff. My brothers and I sit on the under stuffed chairs that line the hallway.

I need to tell someone. Before I marry Katniss. Before this becomes official and oh, so much more scary. I can't tell Dad- not yet. Mom will find out anyway. I look up at my brothers. Fen is picking at a loose thread on the bottom of his dress shirt, frowning as the fibre gets longer and longer the more he pulls on it. Rye looks bored, drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair and staring around the hallway. They can be assholes (they _are _assholes) but they're my brothers. Even if they haven't necessarily said it, I know that they care. I care about them. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

"You alright Peet?" Fen asks, yanking the thread until it snaps, causing the hem of his shirt to scrunch up. I lean forward, my elbows on my knees.

"I need to tell you guys something, but you _have_ to promise that you won't tell Dad or Mom or Katniss or anyone. I'm telling them... I'm telling _her..._ in due course." I reply, standing up and pacing up and down the short corridor.

Rye frowns. "What's this all about-?"

"Promise me. You have to promise not to tell anyone." I cut him off.

"Fine. We promise." He says, his brow knitting together.

"I've been working at the mines." I blurt out, slumping back into a chair. It takes a few painfully long seconds for my brothers to react. They stare at me, blue eyes wide and don't say a word.

"_What the actual fuck, Peeta?" _Fen hisses. _"What were you thinking?"_

"I don't know. I just panicked. With a baby on the way and having to provide for Katniss as well was too much to take in and I just... panicked. We need the money." I garble, trying to keep the whiney tone out of my voice.

"No you don't," Rye shakes his head. "You work at the bakery. Katniss kills stuff. It's fine!"

"Oh, sorry, didn't you realise that she's pregnant? She's not going out hunting until after the baby is born." I snap. Rye slumps back in his seat with a heavy sigh.

"How long have you been working there?"

"A few months..."

"Jesus Christ, _why_? How did none of us pick up on it?" Fen glances at Rye in exasperation.

"I did the graveyard shifts." I mutter.

"How can Katniss not know?"

"I don't know. I clean off all the dust and I'm really careful about everything."

"Except your _safety, _you complete ass," Rye snaps. "What if you were _killed_? You would've left Katniss to raise _your_ kid all by herself. Did you not think about _that_?"

"Peeta, come on. You could've asked for a pay rise at the bakery or something. You could've got a job anywhere but there. You could've _died, _Peeta."

"I know. I know it was stupid," I shrug. "But I'm still here."

"Bullshit!" Rye exclaims.

"Rye. Shut up." Fen says, throwing his brother a look.

"But it is!" Rye continues, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Tell us you're not gonna go back there. _Promise us_." I blink. He's throwing my words right back at me.

"I-"

"Promise us." Fen says stonily. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"I have to work one more night to get paid." I say. My brothers groan, running their hands through their hair- a Mellark trait- and glance at each other.

"_Fuck_ getting paid. You don't need it. Let the people who have been working in the Seam all their damned lives have the money." Fen cries.

"You're not even old enough to work there! You have to be eighteen!"

"I told them to keep it quiet."

"So they let you work in that hell hole even though it was illegal? Do they not even care?"

"They're nice people."

"Clearly not."

"Don't go back there." Rye instructs sternly. I roll my eyes.

"Fine." I snap.

"Why are you pissed off? You should be happy that you're not in the mines anymore."

"I am."

"And when are you going to tell Katniss?"

"I don't have to tell her now. I'm not working there anymore." I retort. I know that I'm being stubborn and selfish.

"Peet..."

"Look, we're getting married today. Let me tell her after today. I don't want her day to be ruined," I reason, begging my brothers. "I'm going to tell her. I'm definitely going to tell her." I whisper.

"You really love that girl don't you?" Fen says softly. I nod.

"So don't go endangering yourself, please. If not for us and Mom and Dad, but for Katniss and your kid." Rye adds.

"We all know what it's like to lose a parent," Fen muses sadly. We're all thinking of Mom and Mr Everdeen. "I wouldn't want my kid to grow up without a father." I bite my lip, my stomach lurching.

"Is this why you've been so tired?"

"Do I look tired?" I ask, rubbing at my skin. Rye barks out a laugh.

"You look like you've been through hell and back, Peeta," He grins. "Katniss was worried."

"She was?"

"Yep." Rye nods. Fen smiles. I open my mouth to say something else when a door opens and Katniss appears with Madge, Prim and Mrs Everdeen. I lock eyes with her and my heart melts. She chews her bottom lip timidly. She's never looked so beautiful.

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Mom and Prim are fussing with my hair, patting down the unruly strands. I swat their hands away as we're directed through the Justice Building, but smooth my dress down uncertainly. Madge shipped in the material from District 4, Mom cut it up and made it into a beautiful dress, and Prim sewed on the lace detailing that arches down over my chest in a 'sweetheart neckline', according to Madge, and down my back. You can see the brown skin of my back through the lace, and it's done up with pearly buttons that follow my spine. It's simple, but stunningly beautiful. My Mockingjay pin is above my heart. My hair is in loose waves, but is braided slightly at the sides with soft strands framing my face. Mom says I look beautiful. Prim wishes she had a camera. Madge thinks I'm the loveliest bride in all of Panem. I think I'm about to throw up.

And then I open another heavy wooden door and see Peeta.

Simply his presence relaxes me. I feel a smile working its way onto my lips and bite my lip. I can't pull my eyes away from his, and just stare into the endless blue orbs. I'm aware of people talking and moving about around me, but all I can see is Peeta.

"Is you father through there?" Mom asks, pointing to a closed door.

"Our Mom too." Fen nods. Mom raises her eyebrows at the mention of Mrs Mellark but says nothing, folding her coat over her arm and disappearing through the door she motioned to. I look away eventually and admire Peeta as a whole. He's dressed smartly, complete with shined shoes, sharp jacket and tie. I step forward, closer to him and he takes my hand, pulling me in for a hug. I inhale his scent deeply, closing my eyes momentarily. It's been several hours since I've seen him and I missed him. Over the past few months I've become accustomed to having him around all the time, to have him by my side, night and day.

"You're beautiful." Peeta whispers into my ear, and the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of my ear makes me weak at the knees.

"Thank you," I smile, looking up at him. "You cleaned up well."

"Why do you act so surprised?" Peeta asks, a smirk playing at his lips. I bat his arm and grin, leaning into him.

"Ready to become a Mellark?" Rye asks, ruining the moment completely by slapping my shoulder.

"Fuck no. It means I'm legally related to _you_." I snort. Fen laughs, sucking his breath in between his teeth.

"You'll probably be able to get used to it."

"Let's hope." I say. Peeta chuckles. I'm completely relaxed until Mr Mellark opens the door leading to an office and beckons us inside. I release a shaking breath I didn't even realise I was holding and Peeta takes my hand, squeezing it tightly. He follows his brothers into the tiny office and I walk close behind him.

The office is just like the rest of the building, plush red carpet covers the floor, with cream walls and smooth mahogany furniture. The magistrate who sits behind the massive desk is pale –almost translucent- with grey hair that is pulled over his scalp in an attempt to make it look like he isn't in the last stages before losing all the hair on his head.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Peeta asks.

I pause to clear my head, thinking thousands of thoughts all at once. In less than half an hour I'm going to no longer be an Everdeen. I will be a Mellark. Officially stripped of the name that has defined me for all these years, that serves as a constant reminder of my father, of my family, of my past.

It makes me sad to think about leaving it all behind, but I have to remind myself that I'm simply moving on. The memories will not be forgotten, just stored away. Peeta will help me move on. It's a good thing. "I'm definitely sure." I nod. Peeta smiles brightly, his eyes soft, and I bump my shoulder against his side.

Peeta and I are both given several sheets of paper filled with information. I scan through it quickly, barely reading the Capitol-approved rules and regulations and terms and conditions of my marriage. The magistrate glowers at my stomach, up at my face, across to Peeta, and then back at my stomach. I can feel him judging Peeta and I.

"Please sign here." He says, pointing a gnarled finger against the paper at several spots. I look up, hand out stretched until he gets the message that I need something to write with. With an exaggerated sigh he fishes a heavy cartridge pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to me.

"Thanks." I say, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice. When I bring the tip of the pen down to the paper I pause, unsure of what I should write. Never in my life have I had to write my name down on a legal document of this kind. I scratch my name down hastily in all the places the magistrate points to.

By the time I've finished signing in all the appropriate places, Peeta has only just finished reading the fourth page. Once he's finished reading, he signs his name in an elegant script and hands the papers back to the magistrate who files them away. He continues to ask us a seemingly endless amount of amount of questions. We nod and say yes many times, relieved when he finally stamps the box at the bottom of each sheet with a Capitol seal, before looking back up at Peeta and I, clasping his hands over his rotund belly, peering doubtfully over his half-moon spectacles.

He's definitely judging us. Me in particular. I wonder what it is exactly that he is thinking. _Poor guy, getting saddled with her? _I wrinkle my nose. _It's not gonna last. They'll be back within the year asking for a divorce. _I rub my stomach thoughtfully. _Why are his parents allowing this? _I look across the room at Peeta' parents. Mr Mellark is standing in between my Mom and his wife, a small smile on his face. Mom says something to the man beside her and he chuckles softly. Mrs Mellark scowls. I catch her eye and mouth 'sorry' over Peeta's shoulder. Her eyes widen momentarily and she purses her lips before looking down at the floor. Fen and Rye are whispering to Madge who gives them withering looks, and Prim is rocking back and forth on her heels, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"One last document." The magistrate mutters, sliding what looks like paper but is in fact a screen, across the table. He hands Peeta special pen and points to the line that says 'Husband' beneath it. Peeta signs his name once more, confirming his marriage to me. I take the pen and stare at the line.

"Kat?" Peeta asks softly. "What's wrong?" The text on the page merges together the longer I gaze at it. I can hear the magistrate chuckling to himself. I sign my name down.

And just like that, it's official. My name is Katniss Mellark. I am the wife of Peeta Mellark.

Fen and Rye cheer from their spot by the wall and my Mom claps her hands, smiling warmly at me. Madge and Prim squeal. Mrs Mellark raises her eyebrows. Peeta turns to me and grins, the action making the dimples in his cheeks stand out even more. I blush. Our parents thank the magistrate and I leave the room as a wife.

Peeta's wife.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I can't believe that Katniss is actually my wife. Fen and Rye hoot obnoxiously and make several suggestive comments about what the night after the wedding usually entails, but eventually continue ahead, walking with my parents. Madge and Prim, looking like sisters in their blue dresses and golden tresses, walk in between Katniss and I and family and Katniss' mother.

Katniss hasn't let go of my hand since we left the magistrate's office. As we walk along she leans into my side, resting her head on my shoulder.

"So, what next?" I ask. She looks up, her grey eyes wide.

"We go to Madge's house." Katniss grins, knowing full well that that's not what I'm asking.

"I know, dummy," I chuckle. Katniss laughs and I pull her closer to my side, wrapping my arm around her. We reach the Undersee mansion in about twenty minutes, and the sheer _size _of the place is mindboggling. Gravel crunches underfoot as we walk up the sweeping driveway and the stone steps that lead up to the front door are smooth and expensive-looking. Madge guides us further into the house, and we gather in a room filled with plush chairs and thick rugs and a huge television on the wall above a roaring fireplace. Katniss stares in wonder at the massive room, arching her neck to look up at the high ceiling. I press a kiss to her neck and she squirms, batting me away playfully.

"Not now, Peeta. My Mom is here!" She insists, her cheeks darkening.

"Not now?" I ask. "So I can do that later?" I waggle my eyebrows and she shakes her head, laughing at me.

"Maybe, if you're lucky." She says, kissing me slowly- tauntingly- before pulling away. I lean back into the couch and sigh. We chat easily for a while, talking about anything from the latest Capitol fashions shown on the television to whether summer was better than winter or not. About half an hour later, there's a knock on the door. Madge excuses herself to answer it, flashing me an apologetic smile that makes me frown. It takes her a few minutes to make her way through the mansion to answer the door, but when she returns she isn't alone. Mitch is standing beside her, his eyes flickering around the room until he sees me. I lock my jaw. He waves his hand slightly in a weak greeting. I don't return it.

A person dressed in red –I assume it's a servant- comes into the room, interrupting the tension that has begun to build between Mitch and I, and bows her head to Madge.

"Thank you, Lavinia," Madge says, seeming to understand despite the person never saying a single word. "Dinner will be served in the west dining room." She says, leading the way down the marble pillared, marble-floored hallway. The _west _dining room? How many dining rooms has she got? The room is light airy, with high ceilings like the rest of the house, simple artwork on the walls, with a large ebony table flanked by countless chairs. We sit down and the silent servants serve the meal.

"Madge, no, this is too much." Katniss whispers, staring around at the full plates in front of everyone.

"Katniss, it's alright. I want to do this. My father doesn't mind. It's your wedding, Katniss, and you deserve this."

"Madge, you're too kind." Mrs Everdeen smiles. Madge grins, Katniss bites her lip anxiously, and my brothers dig in to their food.

Once the meal is finished, we migrate into the large expanse of land that Madge calls her backyard. But this isn't just a backyard, it's a masterpiece. The grass is thick and green, the shrubs and flowerbeds are perfectly sculpted, and an ornate water fountain takes centre stage. Madge leads us to a small sheltered terrace area where a small band of musicians sit, and when they begin to play a slow, joyful song, fingers dancing over strings, over buttons, over keys, Katniss groans and buries her face into my side. Madge grins and takes Mitch's hand.

"It's your first dance." She shrugs with a small smile. I take Katniss' hand in mine and tug her towards the centre of the tiled area, pulling her other hand from her face as she attempts to hide, blushing profusely.

"Come on Katniss, it's a tradition." I say. Katniss looks up at me, embarrassed.

"I can't dance."

"Yeah you can," I say, placing my hands on her waist and pulling her in close, she wraps her arms around my neck, resting her head on my chest as we begin to move in a small circle. "Remember? At the dinner, after the reaping. You're a great dancer."

"Ugh, don't. That was awful." Katniss grumbles against my chest. I chuckle, pressing a kiss against her head.

"I can't believe that you're my wife." I say after a few moments.

"I can't believe I'm your _wife _either," Katniss replies. "It's just so surreal. This was the last thing on my mind. Marrying a Merchant? Marrying the _baker's son?" _She pauses. "_Getting pregnant by him?"_

"This dude sounds like a bit of an asshole." I tease.

"He is an asshole."

"But you love him."

"Yes, I do love him," Katniss says. I bring my head down, resting my chin on her shoulder. "And I know that he loves me. I know that he didn't mean to get the Seam slut pregnant, but he's kind of glad that he did." A smile works its way onto my lips and I chuckle.

"And I know that the 'Seam slut' that I just married is kind of glad too."

"Shut up. I am not." Katniss protests. I laugh, inhaling her scent. She smells of the forest, of clean air and dirt and leaves. The underlying scent of lavender comes from the soap she's begun using since moving into the Merchant Quarters. She bought it after her mother advised her on it as a calming agent that would help her sleep.

I always wondered what she smelt like. Whether her hair would be soft and shiny in between my fingers when it was unravelled from her braid. If the skin beneath her clothes was as tanned as her arms and legs. If her eyes had specks of gold or green or maybe even blue among the grey so common in the Seam. I wondered so many things, and always wished to know all the answers. And now I'm married to the girl of my dreams. I'm married to the only person I can't live without.

And I'm hiding the facts that I'm endangering my life most nights, instead of staying with her to ward of any nightmares she may have.

I'm a horrible person.

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I'm a horrible person.

Madge is my friend, one of my only friends, and she's done all this for me. My mother and sister have helped to make this day more special than it would've been with a few signatures on some paper at the Justice Building and some cake back home. Mr Mellark has helped to make this all better, Fen and Rye have been reliable if not sarcastic, and, despite the fact that she hasn't accepted what has happened or what will happen, Mrs Mellark has a least attended her son's wedding. It's more than anyone expected. I'm surprised that she hasn't snapped at me yet.

Finally there's Peeta. Sweet, kind, handsome, amazing Peeta. He's my rock. He's been with me through of all of this and has never said anything to intentionally hurt me.

And I've been selfish this entire time.

"Come and dance." I say, addressing the rest of the small party who are chatting easily. The band starts up with a livelier tune, and I break away from Peeta to go and dance with Prim.

"I'm so happy, Katniss."

"Me too, Little Duck." I smile down at her.

"Peeta looks happy as well."

"I would hope so!" I tease. Prim giggles. "Have you had a good time?"

"Yep," Prim nods her head, her golden curls bobbing. "I'm so glad you and Peeta are finally married. It's so romantic. Are you going to have a toasting?" I blink, my sister's question surprising me. I hadn't thought about a toasting. With all the rushing about that's happened today –Peeta getting dragged off by his brothers with no explanation, the surprise wedding, the beautiful dinner, the band, _everything_- a toasting has been the last thing on my mind.

"I suppose so, yes." I say.

"Oooh, is it going to be all private and are you going to kiss Peeta?" Prim asks, her eyes bright.

_Oh, I'm going to do a lot more than kiss Peeta,_ I think to myself.

I swat her around the head playfully. "As if you don't want to kiss Rory," I retort, causing her to blush and look down at her feet. "So he Hawthornes didn't want to come?"

"Madge had planned for them to come, since they're practically like our family, but Gale refused and Hazelle is busy with Posy and the laundry business, and Vick and Rory are 'too irresponsible to go by themselves'." Prim explains sadly as we twirl around the terrace.

"Oh."

"I know that you wanted him to be there," Prim says. "Gale is just being stubborn. He'll come around."

"I hope so." I say quietly, though the voice inside my head tells me that I've lost my best friend for good.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

It's dark by the time we decide to head home. Mom and Dad have dragged a slightly tipsy Fen and definitely drunk Rye from the Mayor's mansion in horror as Madge hurried after them, apologising profusely for having any alcohol. Katniss presses a kiss to my cheek and moves over to her mother and sister, pointing to something out in the dark shadows of the garden, and then looking up at the star-studded sky.

Someone clears their throat behind me. I turn to find Mitch standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets.

"Why are you here?" I ask, turning away and facing the yard.

"Madge invited me... said that I should come. That you'd want me to come." Mitch explains. I stiffen. As much as I want to turn around and tell him that I couldn't care less if he was here on not, I know that I can't. Because he's my best friend, and best friends stick up for each other instead of fighting like four-year-olds.

"You should've been my best man." I mutter, swirling my glass thoughtfully.

"I know," Mitch says, hesitating before stepping forward to stand beside me. "And I'm sorry for yelling and being a jerk-"

"I've been a jerk-"

"You are a jerk-" Mitch and I both speak at the same time. I grin. Mitch looks relieved. "You were. And you still are." Mitch finishes. I shove his shoulder.

"Whatever."

"I'm serious. You knock up Katniss Everdeen of all people, and now you're getting married to her. It's crazy. We're not even adults yet."

"I think it's easier to be a little crazy." I say. Mitch laughs.

"Are you still... working there?" He asks, his joking tone vanishing in an instant.

"No."

"Good."

"But I haven't told Katniss."

"Jesus, Peet, why not?"

"Because it's our fucking _wedding! _I'm not going to ruin her day. I'm going to tell her tomorrow... I think," I run my hand through my hair. "Fen and Rye know."

"They do?"

"Yeah. I told them at the Justice Building. Before Katniss arrived."

"What did they say?"

"They were pissed off, that's for sure," I sigh. "They got angry. They told me that I've been stupid. That I can't work there anymore. They reminded me of what Katniss would be left with if I died." I lean against the stone walling surrounding the patio.

"She'd be left with a baby to raise, and a coffin to visit." Mitch says softly.

"If they could find my body." I grumble.

"Please don't go back there. I'm sorry I got all... _stroppy..._ with you, but I do care, you know? I mean, come on, man, I've known you since I was four," Mitch says. "When you pushed me in the mud for saying that you were a sissy for liking to paint," I chuckle at the memory. "Katniss wouldn't be the only one left with just photographs and memories of you. I'd miss you, your Dad and brothers would miss you. Your Mom would miss you, I'm sure," I scoff. Mitch rolls his eyes. "And that kid would grow up without a Dad."

"I wouldn't want that." I mutter.

"You definitely wouldn't." Mitch says, and I know that he's thinking of his own father who died when Mitch was two from Typhoid fever. Mitch doesn't remember him.

"Sorry... as well." I add, breaking the silence.

"S'Okay," My friend shrugs. "I'm just glad you're out of there."

"Me too."

"Are we cool, man?" Mitch asks.

"Yeah, we're cool." I say, hugging Mitch and slapping his back.

"You do realise that everyone here knows that you're getting laid tonight, don't you?" He chuckles into my ear. I push him away. "That's a yes then."

"Shut up. Besides, I'm sure that you're not the embodiment of celibacy." Mitch snorts, looking up as Madge reappears. She waves cheerily; unaware of what her boyfriend is actually talking about just across the courtyard.

"You and Mitch looked chummy." Katniss states as she loops her arm through mine as we walk through the streetlamp-lit roads of the Merchant Quarters. After Mrs Everdeen and Prim congratulated us on our marriage, they left for home. Katniss was visibly tired; the strain of carrying a baby and being on her feet all day taking its toll, so I thanked Madge, bid our farewell to Mitch, and left.

I feel so much better now that I'm friends with Mitch again. It's like another load off my back. But I'm not free- not yet. Looking down at Katniss, I smile. I've still got to tell her, and I'm afraid that when I do she'll never trust me again. That all the thoughts of her father's sudden death would come rushing back to her. I don't want her to have to go through all that. Her heart is already too fragile to be able to bear the weight of any more heartbreak.

"We got over ourselves, really. We're good now." I tell her.

"I'm glad," Katniss says, squeezing my hand as we turn the corner. "Is... Is that Gale?" She asks, squinting out into the dark street. I follow the direction of her gaze and, staggering down the street, is none other than an intoxicated Gale Hawthorne.

"I think it is." I say.

"What does he want?" Katniss asks, eyeing the front door of our home several houses away, the oil lamp on the wall glowing like a beacon.

"I have no idea." I frown. Gale gets closer and spots us, waving exaggeratedly.

"Hey! What are you doing out so late?" He asks, ignoring me completely and addressing Katniss.

"I'd ask you the same question." My fiancé- my _wife- _retorts.

"What? Can't a man go and have a good time?"

"I never said that." Katniss scowls.

"Baker Boy treating you right?" Gale asks, giving me a dirty look.

"Peeta is the perfect husband." Katniss says, and the thrill that runs through me at her words, at the fact that I am hers and she is mine. Whether it's the alcohol that's caused the electricity that tingles under my skin to amplify, or just the idea of being Katniss' husband, I'm unsure.

"Husband, hey?" Gale asks, snorting at the idea. "I guess it's too late now. You're gone, Catnip. And you said that you never wanted to get married or have kids and look at you now!"

"I only said that to you because I didn't want you!" Katniss bursts out. Gale looks stunned. "I didn't want you as a husband or as the father of my child or as my true love. I want Peeta to be all those things! And he is, down to every last detail!" She pauses, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Gale, all I wanted was for you to be my friend. My best friend. I love you, okay? But I'm not _in_ love with you. Why can't you accept that?"

"I can, Catnip. I can," Gale says, his tone softening a little. "But... you promised, okay? You promised me that you would never have kids or get married or do any of that shit. I thought that you were just saying that to change the subject- that in a few years, maybe after we were done with school, I would be able to convince you to marry me."

Katniss is silent for a long time, chewing her lip anxiously. "You know that I would've said no." She says, but there is no bitterness in her voice. Just sadness.

"Maybe the first few times, but I think that you would've seen everyone else moving on, and you would've said yes in the end, even if we were old and grey by the time you finally accepted." Gale says. I'm sure that if he wasn't so... well..._ shitfaced_, if his eyes were clear, if his speech wasn't slightly slurred, her would've made more of an impact. But Katniss simply sighs. I stand awkwardly beside her, watching as the two old friends exchange their feelings.

"No, Gale. It would've have felt right," She says. "You're my friend. Peeta is my husband. And I wish that you were there. Hazelle and your brothers and Posy shouldn't have had to miss out."

"I'm an ass, I know."

"I'm glad you know."

"Sorry." Gale mumbles.

"Me too," Katniss says quietly, touching Gale's shoulder in a comforting gesture as he passes, his head bowed. "Go home. Drink some water. And in the morning you can start at finding another lucky girl to love. I'm sure she'll say yes." Gale nods his head, a faint smile dancing over his lips. Katniss watches him go and exhales loudly.

"That was..." I trail off.

"Tense?" Katniss offers. I nod. She raises her eyebrows. "He needed to get his head out of his ass before it got stuck. You don't think it was too harsh, do you?"

"Not at all."

"Actually, your opinion doesn't count because you don't like him."

"I never said I didn't like him. I just prefer to be without his company," I shrug. Katniss laughs. "Besides, I knew that was what you've been wanting to say for ages. And I know that you'll always come back to me."

"A little cocky, are we?" Katniss asks, stepping forward and kissing me gently. She begins to pull away but I reclaim her lips, slanting my mouth over hers, sliding my tongue over the seam of her lips until she deepens the kiss. She shoves me away.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Always?"

"Always and forever." Katniss grins, taking my hand and tugging me towards our house. "Now, stop being sappy. We still haven't had a toasting." My eyes widen. The toasting.

Exclusively a District 12 tradition, originating from before the Dark Days, the toasting ceremony is a relic from the past when life was good that has somehow remained an important part of weddings in this district. No one really_ feels_ married until they've crossed the threshold of their new home with their new partner, built their first fire, and fed each other toasted bits of bread, all the while pouring their hearts out to each other, and promising things to each other that the Capitol do not allow, that they want to keep for their wife or husband's ears only.

And now I get to proclaim my love to the girl of my dreams.

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Peeta sweeps me up into his arms as we cross the threshold of the house, kicking the door shut with his foot. I giggle, holding his face in my hands and kissing him as he carries me into the living room, before depositing me on two feet by the cold empty fireplace.

"I'll go and get some bread." He says, gathering me in for another heated kiss that makes me feel like I'm on fire, heat pooling low in my stomach. I nod, biting my bottom lip, and place some logs into the fireplace, before striking a match and lighting it, kneeling down on the floor to let the logs catch light. I let the fire build before adding a few more logs, settling back on my heels, rubbing my stomach. My feet ache, my back aches, and I'm tired, but right now, I couldn't be happier. Peeta reappears carrying a single plate with some bread rolls on it, the outsides crisp and golden-brown, and the insides white and fluffy. He removes his jacket and shoes, draping the jacket over the coach and lining his shoes up by the door.

"Do you want to start?" I offer when he sits down opposite me, smiling shyly, the fire making his golden hair glow. I can even see his eyelashes, which are usually invisible. His eyes are blazing, staring at me with an intensity that I've never seen before.

"Sure," He nods, tearing off a piece of the roll and holding it out into the flame. "Katniss Everdeen. I've loved you since I was five years old, when I heard you singing The Valley Song on our first day of school. I've tried to forget my feelings, but they always came back to me stronger each time. I love everything about you, the way your nose wrinkles when you're thinking, the way you twirl the end of your braid when you're listening to someone talk or watching something," He pauses, turning the bread in his fingers but never taking his eyes off me. "You're so strong in every way. You protect and care for people with a ferocity that could bring down the government. You captivate people in an instant, even if you're scowling at them-" I laugh at this, hiding my face. "-And I'm so glad that you've married me. I'm so glad that I've been able to be a part of your life like this. I love you, Katniss Everdeen. Always." He reaches forward, perfectly toasted bread in his fingers, and puts it in my mouth. I chew it and swallow, exhaling shakily in an effort to calm my nerves.

"You've always had a way with words," I begin with a quiet laugh. "You've always been kind and loving and amazing in every way. You stand up for those who may not deserve it, you protect everyone you love, you've been kinder to me than anyone ever has. I don't deserve your kindness."

"Katniss..." Peeta begins, giving me a look. I cut him off, moving my hand away from the flames crackling beside me. Damn the bread is burnt.

"And I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you. But as long as could live those thousand lives with you, I'd be happy. Words can't describe how much I love you. I'll always love you. I'm sorry for not realising that sooner." I feed him the bread and he swallows, taking my hand in his and rubbing his thumb over it in gentle circles. I'm about to speak, ready to ask him of what we should do next, but he moves the plate out of the way, pushing aside so he can lean forward and kiss me. I push him to the ground, never removing my lips from his. His hands move down to rest on my waist, and I comb my fingers through his hair, tugging on his curls. He groans and the sound sends shockwaves through me.

Peeta rolls us over so that he's hovering above me, holding himself up to keep his weight off me.

"I think we should go upstairs." He whispers. I nod and he holds up his hand to help me up from the thick woven rug.

We climb the stairs, move into our bedroom, and Peeta pulls me to the bed. He gathers my hair over one shoulder and undoes the buttons running down the back of my wedding dress. The feel of his fingers tracing over my bare back makes my skin crawl- but in a good way. The dress falls away, landing at my feet in a puddle of white material and lace. I turn, pulling his tie from his neck and unbuttoning his dress shirt. I yank the wife beater from his body, running my hands over his sculpted chest, arching my back when he palms my breasts through the material of my bra. I reach back and remove it, tossing it aside. Peeta kisses me again, slowly, softly, moving me backwards and pushing me down onto the bed. His lips move down my body, brushing over my neck and down onto my chest.

I moan once his lips come in contact with my nipple, and push him back again to sit above him as he sucks the tender flesh, before I begin to map my hands over his torso, scratching my nails lightly over his skin.

I reach down between our bodies and unbutton his pants. He lifts his hips from the mattress to help me slide them down. He kicks them off his feet and runs his fingers through my hair, spreading it about my shoulders.

"I love you, so much." He breathes.

"I love you too." I smile. Peeta's hands move hesitantly downwards, towards my panties, and when he presses his fingers against me, through the material, I whimper, moving into his touch. He rolls us over again, pulling my underwear down, and moves down the bed, spreading my legs, kissing down my thighs.

And then his mouth is there. I cry out at the feeling of his fingers moving inside me, of his tongue and lips sucking on my clit, and he groans. It takes minutes for me come, and I let out a growl-like noise, crawling back down the bed to pull him down to me, sliding his boxers off with my toes. Even in the darkness of the room I can see the redness in Peeta's cheeks, but I close my eyes when he covers my mouth with his own, his eyes squeezing shut as he pushes into me, slowly as to not hurt me, until his body is flush against mine. I struggle for breath, the feeling of him stretching me, filling me up, and he buries his face in the curve of my neck, his breath coming out in sharp, choked gasps.

"Katniss," He cries, refusing to move. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I reply. "Don't be afraid to move." I roll my hips against his in encouragement and he pulls out of me.

When he pushes back in, I wind my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together as Peeta thrusts his hips back and forth, kissing me gently the entire time.

The muscles in his back begin to shift and tighten and I know that he's close. He pauses, grits his teeth, and continues, his hand moving up to my breast to squeeze me tightly, rolling my nipple in between his fingers. I whimper against his mouth, pleasure building like a wave rushing to the shore, getting higher and higher until it cannot move any further, before it falls. I cry out, writhing on the bed, and Peeta groans, his mouth falling open as he comes. He collapses against me, his arms shaky as he holds himself up.

"I love you, Katniss," He says. "You're my wife. You're mine."

"You're mine, Peeta. My husband. I love you." I smile, letting out a soft laugh. Peeta lays beside me, pulling me close, and presses a kiss to my neck.

"Just, don't ever forget that. Okay? I love you." Peeta mumbles. I nod.

"It's okay."


	39. Chapter 39: Dandelions

**As always, thank you for the kind reviews, favourites, and follows! Nothing much happens in this chapter, it's more of a filler to be honest, but the next chapter is drama-filled and exciting, so hang in there!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Short, gasping breaths are what rip me from my peaceful slumber, and I sit up, confused, and find Peeta curled up in a ball on his side facing away from me, tugging on his hair, muttering nonsense under his breath.

"Peeta," I whisper, shaking his shoulder gently. "Peeta, it's just a dream," He lets out a choked sob and I pull him onto his back, straightening his legs, uncurling his fingers from his hair, and smooth his curls over his forehead. "Peeta! Not real!" I hiss, smoothing my hands over his skin. His eyes snap open, his pupils contracting as he stares wildly about the room before finally settling on me.

"Kat..." He mumbles in relief, pulling me down and squeezing my tightly, so tightly that I struggle to breath.

"It's okay. Not real. You're safe." I promise him.

"I- I don't care about me. I just need to know that you're okay," Peeta says, inhaling deeply. "You're okay, right?"

"I've never been better," I smile to reassure him and he sighs. I give him a few minutes to calm down and come back to his senses before speaking again, tracing circles over his chest. "You want to talk about it?" It's Peeta's turn to stay silent. I wait patiently for an answer.

"No," He finally decides. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Peeta smiles. He cranes his neck to look at the clock. "I'll get us some breakfast." He smiles, climbs out of bed and pulls on some soft, dark blue pants. I fish one of his shirts from the top drawer of the chest of drawers once he's gone, wallowing in his smell. This is one of my favourite shirts on him- it's kitten-soft, the 'Mellark' lettering over the front has begun to fade, and it never seems to lose Peeta's smell. I pull the covers back so they're a little neater and smile. We've fallen into an easy routine so quickly and easily that it feels like this is what was meant to happen all along. It feels familiar. And now I can share it with Peeta forever.

It's going to take a long time to get used to being Peeta's wife, however, and to be able to say Katniss _Mellark _without taking a moment to simply appreciate who I've married.

* * *

Two days later, in the early morning light of the first day back to school, I'm standing behind Peeta with a pair of sharp kitchen scissors in my hand, cutting his hair.

"It's been pissing me off." Peeta says, blowing the uncut, unruly long curls over his forehead.

"I love your hair being a little long." I confess, cutting around his ear as carefully as possible. So far I haven't hurt him. _The day is young..._

"I know you do," Peeta chuckles. "But it'll still be long enough for you to mess about with, but short enough so that I can actually see."

"Don't be so dramatic," I scold playfully, brushing away the cut hair from around his ear before moving to stand in front of him. "I wasn't going to let you grow it like Darrel Ray." I think of the boy a in the year below who has hair down to his waist hanging in a horrible greasy curtain. Peeta snorts.

"_I _wouldn't let my hair get like that," He says. I smile hold the scissors out to cut the hair on the top of his head and over his forehead. "Please don't make me look ridiculous."

"You do that by yourself," I retort with a grin. Peeta pokes me in the side and jolts my hand as I cut the last of his hair, just above his eyebrow. "Fuck you, Peeta Mellark." I snap.

"Shit, what have you done?" Peeta asks, grabbing the hand-held mirror sat on the kitchen table. He looks up at me and I spot what's happened, and just the sight of his right eyebrow sends me into uncontrollable, extremely unattractive laughter. The middle of his eyebrow is gone.

"I'm sorry!" I croak between rounds of laughter as Peeta stares at his haggard brow in the mirror. "You poked me and I moved and cut through it!"

"Thanks a bunch." Peeta grumbles, but I know he's joking.

"Your hair looks alright though," I muse, putting the scissors down and pulling gently at his hair. "I sure no one will notice."

"I think I should cut off a bit of your eyebrow too. Make it a tradition. We'll start a trend!"

"Somehow I don't see it catching on." I say. Peeta rolls his eyes and puts the mirror down before gripping my hips and pulling me towards him. He kisses me.

"Thanks for cutting my hair." He says.

"You're very welcome," I laugh. Peeta kisses me again and as he does so the baby kicks again, stretching and shifting. I pull away and press my hands to my stomach, mesmerised. "He always moves when you're close." I say. Peeta's eyes travel down from my face to my stomach.

"Really?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Especially when your face is by my belly. Maybe he likes to hear your voice close up."

"He?" Peeta asks curiously. I shrug. "I thought Prim and Sae said it was a girl."

"They _think _that. We can't know for sure."

"I don't think I'd like to know, even if we could," Peeta says. "A surprise is good, I think."

"What do you want? A girl or a boy?" I squeeze his shoulder. "Maybe a girl would hunt with me, but a boy would bake with you."

"I don't mind. As long as they're happy and healthy, I'll be alright."

* * *

A few hours later, the happy mood that talk of the baby has brought on is gone as I'm being forcibly dragged to school. Well, Peeta is trying his best to get me out of the house, but he's so far been unsuccessful.

"Katniss, come on. We have to go. It's the law," Peeta says, tugging me out of the door. I dig my heels into the ground, bracing my hands on the doorframe. Peeta sighs, holding his head in his hands. "What's wrong?" He asks.

"I can't go to that place. Not like this." I reply.

"Like what?"

"Like _this_!" I exclaim, looking down at my ridiculously sized stomach. "I'm fat and I'm ugly and everyone already thinks that I'm just a Seam slut who only slept with you because I knew that I'd get food and stuff out of it!" I turn and start for the stairs, ready to change into more comfortable clothes and lie in bed all day. But Peeta grabs my arms, pinning them to my sides and pushing me back so I'm against the wall.

"You are not fat. Or ugly. And stuff what everyone else thinks." He says.

"School's pointless." I grumble.

"I know, but we have to go. It's the law. And we need to go so that we can pass the exams at the end of the year," I open my mouth to speak. "Just ignore what people say. You're good at that, aren't you?" He grins and I scowl.

"Shut up," I sigh. "But I know that they're right."

"They're wrong, Katniss. Listen to me."

"I'm like a fat pig," I say, my bottom lip trembling. "A fat, useless pig-" Peeta cuts off my rant with a kiss. He frees my arms and one rests on the small of my back, pulling me to him, the other on the back of my neck. I refuse to respond for twenty seconds, letting him do all the work as I stand there, motionless, but the way he kisses me -the movement of his lips against mine, his tongue seeking entrance into my mouth- makes me feel like jelly and I find myself kissing him back with an equal amount of passion. When he pulls away I follow his lips, desperate to feel them again, but he just chuckles and presses his forehead against mine, panting slightly.

"You're my beautiful wife," He kisses me softly. "And anyone who thinks otherwise is completely stupid. I love you." He smiles. I bite my lip.

"Say it again," I murmur. Peeta raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Say that I'm your wife."

"You're my wife."

"What's my name?"

"Katniss _Mellark._" Peeta grins, stretching out my new surname.

"Katniss Mellark, your wife." I whisper. Peeta nods.

"And Katniss Mellark isn't afraid of what some stupid person thinks. Is she?"

"She isn't." I smile, threading my fingers through the curls at the nape of Peeta's neck, before moving my hand to smooth over his mangled eyebrow.

"Let's go then. We don't want to be late. That would just cause more problems," Peeta tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, adjusts my scarf, and takes my hand. It takes about fifteen minutes to walk to school, and the bell that signals the start of the day rings just as we walk through the gates. I follow the crowds of students flooding to the main entrance, trying to blend in. We head for my locker first so that I can exchange my books and put away my coat. Peeta leans against the locker next to mine, watching people go past and waving to those he's friendly with, (so practically everyone). My fingers hover over the buttons of my coat, hesitant to remove them. Peeta senses this and stands in front of me, removing my coat himself, folding it neatly and putting it into my locker. I tug my shirt and baggy sweater anxiously. "You're beautiful." Peeta says.

"Everyone's staring at me." I state as I stand beside Peeta as he takes his books from his locker, which is right in the middle of the main hallway, unfortunately, which is the busiest place in the school.

"They have every right to be curious, Katniss, it's when they start being horrible that you can get angry or upset." Peeta smiles.

"I don't want them to stare at me."

"I know you don't." Peeta says sadly, shutting his locker and looping and an arm around my waist. He walks me to my first class, kissing me at the door and telling me to keep my head up and that it'l be alright. I feel alone and empty when he leaves, his hands in his pockets as he makes his way down the hallway. I almost believe him until I turn and face the class. Cheerful chatter ceases, reduced to whispers and conspiring glances. I flop down into my seat at the back of the room beside Madge, who's bouncing in her seat, a smile on her face.

"What happened to Peeta's eyebrow?" She asks.

"Huh?"

"Half of the right one is missing. Mitch saw him in the hallway and told me about it."

"Oh!" I nod my head, a smirk appearing on my face. "Yeah, I was cutting his hair this morning and he poked me and my hand slipped. He's lucky I didn't stab him in the eye."

"That's adorable," Madge sighs. I frown, confused. "You were cutting his hair," Madge explains. "You two are so cute."

"He was getting annoyed because it was in his eyes," I tell her, lifting my books onto the desk. "But I like his hair a little longer... It feels nice to run my fingers through it..." I trail off, embarrassed. Madge coos beside me.

"Don't be embarrassed. I think it's amazing that you trust him so much," My friend's eyes are sincere as she talks, glancing from me to the teacher. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've always been quite a closed-off person."

"I know."

"And you've only really been _with _Peeta for a few months, and it's clear that you love him a lot. That you trust him." I don't answer, lost in thought. Madge is right. I was a closed-off person. A big part of me still is. But after all this mess with Peeta, he's shown me that people are good. That not everyone is selfish and mean and shallow, but that if you find the right person, they'll do anything for you, and you'd do anything for them. That love is capable of being strong enough to make my head spin.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

For me, the day is alright. I get people whispering or gossiping obnoxiously in front of Katniss and I, and just pull _my wife _close and smile at her. She tells me about the people who have called her a slut or a whore, the people who have asked her whether she's happy about ruining my life, whether she realises that the baby won't want parents like us. She tells me that it's the people who say nothing that hurt the most, because she doesn't know if they simply don't care, don't mind, or refuse to say what they're really thinking out loud.

She tries her best to brush it all off, to walk past the bullies, to ignore the cruel jibes, but I can see that she's upset. The way that she's constantly adjusting her clothes as she walks along makes me upset too. I don't know if she's embarrassed or just feeling like the world is against her. Right now, I think she's experiencing both of those feelings. By the time lunch swings round, she's at breaking point. I tell her to sit down with Madge while I get us some lunch, but by the time I'm out of the lunch line only Madge and Mitch are sitting at the usual table.

"Where's Katniss?" I ask.

"I don't know. She wasn't in my last class. I thought she was with you." Madge frowns.

"I told her to go and sit down with you guys while I got some food." I explain, sliding the tray of various cafeteria meals onto the table. Mitch snatches a grain bar from the tray.

"I didn't see her either." He shakes his head.

"I'm going to go and look for her." I tell them, slinging my bag over my shoulder and exiting the cafeteria. I bump into Wolf on my way out and he grabs my arm.

"Katniss just ran past here a few minutes ago, headed down the east corridor. She looked upset, man." He explain.

"The east corridor?" I ask. Wolf nods. "Okay, thanks!" I take off, down the corridor, and find that it's empty. Apart from a few classrooms and the toilets, there's nothing in this corridor. It doesn't lead outside or anywhere else in the school. It's a dead end. I check all the classrooms. Empty. I stare up at the door to the girl's bathroom. She has to be in there. I take a deep breath and push open the door.

"What the fuck?" A girl with fiery red hair glares at me, her red lipstick smudged over her cheek as I burst into the room. "Get the fuck out of here! What's your problem?" She cries.

"Sorry," I flounder, marching past her and down the rows of cubicles. "Katniss? Are you in here?" I call, pushing on the cubicle doors as I pass them. They all swing open –everyone's at lunch- except the very last one. I sigh and knock on the door. "Kat? Is that you?"

"G-go away!" Katniss' choked sob comes back.

"Katniss..."

"I don't want to see anyone right now, I just want some space." Katniss sniffs.

"Please open the door." I plead.

"Peeta, just go."

"I'm not going to leave," I say stubbornly. "Just open the door, please." There's no response for a minute or two, but Katniss eventually slides the lock open on the door, and pulls it open. What greets me is a teary mess. She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater and sniffs.

"Sorry." She says. I pull her into my arms, resting my chin on her head.

"Why are you saying sorry? What did you do?" I ask. Katniss bursts into tears again, burying her face into my chest.

"N-nothing! But it's j-just too much. I'm tired and h-hungry all the time, and I don't want people being horrible. It's n-not fair. Why can't they just mind their own business?" She takes a deep breath to steady herself, and I let her calm down before answering.

"I don't know why they can't. And I know it isn't fair. And I'm tired too."

"You're not hungry though."

"I'm not eating for two," I say. She sighs, but the noise is jumpy. "We've got a few more lessons to go and then you can go home, put your feet up, and sleep for as long as you want."

"That sounds nice."

"I'll even make you something containing chocolate."

"That sounds even better."

"Are you gonna come and eat something? I think I'll get suspended or something if I'm caught in here." Katniss chuckles before pulling away, her eyes swimming with tears.

"I got your clothes all wet." She says, rubbing the wet patch on my jacket.

"It's alright, I don't mind." I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead and pretending that she isn't the only one who feels exhausted all the time. I'd like to sleep for a long time too, preferably with Katniss curled up beside me, because I know that she can fend away nightmares of the mines.

She doesn't know what the nightmare I had a few days ago was about, I doubt I'll ever tell her. After the terror she felt from the nightmare in which she had a knife in hand, and I was dead and the baby was gone, I don't want her to feel any more unstable.

I dreamt that I was working in the mines, that the bright yellow canary stopped singing, dropping dead in its little cage. That we all ran for the elevator to get back to the surface. But I didn't make it on, and was buried under the falling rock.

But then, in a confusing twist of events, I was alive again, standing outside the mine entrance, covered in coal dust as people screamed and cried out the names of loved ones around me. Those who had made it out alive were surrounded by their families, hugging and crying and smiling in the relief that they hadn't been buried in the place they hated the most. I glanced around frantically looking for Katniss, any of the Everdeen family, any of my family, but they were nowhere to be found. I ran to the mine manager who was talking to a distraught woman, but when I asked if he had seen Katniss or my parents or brothers he just looked straight at me and continued talking, as if he couldn't hear me or see me. _Why can't he see me? I'm right here!_ I frowned and asked him again, but he just walked forward... _right through me._

I jumped, surprised, and spun around to see him walk towards Katniss.

"Miss, I'm so very sorry. Mr Mellark didn't make it out," He pauses when Katniss let out a gut-wrenching scream, dropping to her knees and holding her head in her hands. "The roof collapsed before he got to the elevator. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?" But Katniss just screamed and cried and collapsed onto the floor, holding her stomach and sobbing, tears flowing down her cheeks. I dropped down beside her and call her name, over and over again, shouting and grabbing for her, but my hands just go straight through her body. She doesn't hear me either, let alone see me.

"Katniss!" I hear someone shout. Fen and Rye burst onto the scene, followed by my father. "Where's Peeta?" Fen asks.

"He d-didn't make it!" Katniss wails. "The g-ground collapsed before he c-could get out!" The look on my brother's faces is heartbreaking. I wave my arms about, yelling and shouting.

"I'm right here! I'm alive! What are you talking about?" I exclaim in a panicky voice. Katniss cries my name and Rye tries to help her up, staggering when her limbs give out and she falls against him.

"It'll be alright, Katniss." He offers, his eyes wide. Fen runs his hands through his hair. My Dad begins to shout at the manager, demanding that they send someone down there to check, that '_for goodness sake, why isn't it safer?' _and begging that they do something to bring me back.

Time warps once more and I'm in our house, standing in the doorway of the room we've reserved for the baby. I hear a soft cry from behind me and crane my head. Katniss walks straight through me and into the room, humming softly to the little body bundled up in her arms. The soft cry I heard was from our baby! She reaches down and places the small child into the cot. She begins to sing softly, a mournful melody, her hair long and wavy down her back. I try to take a step forward, to hold her in my arms, to see what's happening, but my feet are glued to the floor. I'm unable to take a single step. Katniss turns and glances up at the door, her eyes widening as if she suddenly sees me, but then her face falls.

I realise how tired she looks. She's aged twenty years. Her hair is still long, her eyes are still grey, but she looks sad. She looks defeated and lonely and on the brink of giving up all together. Katniss grabs a small, three-legged stool from the corner of the room and brings it over to sit beside the cot dangling one arm through the bars, singing again. After a while she stops singing and just sits there, watching the sleeping child. I try to sneak a glance at the baby, but it's just out of sight.

"Your Daddy would've loved to have met you." Katniss whispers.

"Katniss, I'm right here." I tell her.

"He was so excited to meet you. He painted this room for you," I look around and find that the walls are beautifully decorated. "And he always wanted a little... a little..." She trails off, her voice breaking. "P- Pe," She stops again. Why can't she say my name? "He loved you so much, and he hadn't even met you yet."

"No, I'm alive. I'm here!" I exclaim.

"Grandpa said that he loved children. I knew it too. Grandpa says that he would've done anything for you. Grandpa says that he misses him too."

"Grandpa?" I ask, my voice a pained whisper. _Dad!_

"And Uncle Fen and Uncle Rye and Auntie Prim said they miss him too. Even his Grandma misses him," She chuckles softly. "Even though she hasn't said it yet."

_Uncle Fen? Uncle Rye? Auntie Prim? Grandma?_

"I don't know what's more sad- that he gave up his life because he wanted to provide for you, or that he never got to meet his child." Katniss' body shudders and she takes a deep breath.

_Who is she talking to? _

"Kat? Please? Just turn around." I whisper, a tear rolling down my cheek. Why is this happening? I'm not dead. I'm alive. I'm still here, right now.

"But we'll go and visit his grave tomorrow. You like that don't you? You like putting dandelions there," Katniss is silent for a long time. "He always liked dandelions, didn't he?" I don't know if she's saying this to the sleeping child or to herself, but it breaks my heart nevertheless.

And then I'm being pulled backwards, out of the house before I can hear her say anything else. Everything gets darker, darker, darker, until it's just endlessly black in every direction. I don't even try to find my way out.


	40. Chapter 40: Endless Blue

**Thank you for the response to this story! A special thanks to guest reviewer _Olivia- _I wish I could've replied! All you guys are great :D I think you'll enjoy this chapter... it's entirely in Katniss' POV (again, I know ;) ) but the next chapter will be entirely Peeta!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I hit the seven month mark in early February. To celebrate, Peeta makes me a cake that was more chocolate than anything else. I couldn't eat it all at once, and ended up feeling bloated and sick, lounging around for a few hours after eating it and complaining. Peeta just laughed his way through it, kissing me to shut me up.

"Two months left." I whisper, slightly in awe, as we lie in bed one night. I've hooked one leg over so that it's wedged between Peeta's, with my head resting on his chest. His hand has found its way down to my hip, and the other is twirling a piece of my hair in slow circles.

"Two," Peeta replies, his voice filled with as much awe as mine. "Eight weeks, or almost eight. And then we'll have a baby to look after."

"A real life baby." I muse.

"Not fake." Peeta says sarcastically.

"Shut up." I say, trying not to laugh.

"And it won't be a sack of flour either." Peeta continues.

"Speaking of which, were _is _that flour sack?" I ask, tilting my head back to look at my husband.

"I, uh... Well, it's difficult to explain," He says sheepishly. I raise an eyebrow. "Because the sacks are the same brand that we use in the bakery, the flour ended up... in pastries and cakes and various types of bread."

"_You cooked our baby?_" I ask. The idea seems silly in itself. Peeta laughs.

"Not specifically me. It could've been Dad or Fen or Rye. And I have no idea who ate the food."

"Someone in this district has eaten the representation of our baby, Peeta," I say with a sigh. "It could've been _us! _How can I expect you to look after a real life human if you _bake _the flour version?" Peeta gives me a look and I grin.

"I promise to never bake our child," He says, placing his spare hand over his heart in an effort to make his promise more sincere. I roll my eyes. "But I do promise to love them."

I pause for a long time before answering. "When I first found out about the baby I asked my Mom if I'd ever learn to love you or the baby... I was afraid that I'd be bitter. That I wouldn't be able to let myself believe that someone as good as you could possibly love someone like me," I take a deep breath, and despite all the emotions I'm feeling I can sense the wave of drowsiness fast approaching. "And now that I know you love me, and that I love you too, I know that I'll be able to love the baby. I might be a shit mother-"

"Katniss-" Peeta protests, tightening his grip on me.

"And he may hate me, but I will love him anyway."

"There is no way that your child could possibly hate you." Peeta whispers tenderly, placing his hand on my stomach.

"They might. They'll love you. Everyone does."

"Katniss Mellark. He or she won't hate you. Not in the slightest." Peeta says, his words taking on a tone of authority. I press a kiss to his bare chest, smile, and close my eyes.

* * *

Peeta and I have become more open with each other since coming back to school. I'm not as afraid to tell him my feelings, and he isn't either. We trust each other. We miss the other's presence if we're alone. We find ourselves just sitting there and laughing at silly memories. It's comforting. Apart from Gale (who doesn't really count because he's more of a brother to me) I haven't had much male influence in my life. Being with Peeta has made me more aware of so many things. Some of these things have lead to heated kisses in almost every room of the house, cautious touches that become confident caresses, and three or four nights of complete ecstasy.

Our kisses have steadily become sultrier as the days have gone by. I find myself eager to initiate them, though the first person to open their mouth to transform the kiss from a tender peck on the cheek to a full-blown make out session. I've had to prompt Peeta into letting his hands and lips wander, and actually placed his hands on my bare breasts to get things moving when he just stood there, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

The images of Peeta moving above me, the band of muscle around his shoulders shifting, his arms shaking as he holds himself up above me, the beads of sweat that roll down his nose, or the way his hands rest on my thighs when I ride him, the way his groan rumbles not only through him but through me as well, the smouldering look his eyes hold as he locks eyes with me- those are things I'll never forget. It's been burned into my brain like a set of times tables, but not as boring.

A week or two into January I come into the house from a trip into town and find the house empty. I make my way further into the building, hanging up my coat, heaving the bag of groceries –I'll never get used to that- onto the kitchen table and dumping my shoes by my chair and hear a thumping sound. It's a repetitive and solid sound, _thump thump thump, _so I listen carefully to see where it's coming from. I pull open the backdoor, fully prepared to yell at whoever is out in the backstreets making such a racket, but my words are sucked from my mouth when I see who's outside making the noise.

Peeta has his back to me and is wearing nothing but a pair of loose pants, giving me a fantastic view of his heavily muscled yet scarred back as he punches the punching bag hung outside on a hook. I bite my lip and just stand there, gripping the doorframe with both hands to keep myself steady. Peeta, seemingly oblivious to my presence, continues to bring his arms round onto the bag, sending it careening forward and backward. I must stand there for a good ten minutes just _watching, _before shaking my head and heading back inside, shutting the door quietly, to deal with the groceries, making sure that I keep an eye on Peeta through the kitchen window.

The anxious energy that builds up inside me messes with my head and makes my head misinterpret every move Peeta makes into some sexual thought. By the time we head to bed, I'm going crazy with lust. And I never thought I'd ever feel that for any man. For anyone. Peeta climbs into bed and goes over to give me a kiss goodnight, but I grab his shoulders and pull him down on top of me, surprising both him and myself at my assertiveness. This surprise doesn't last long however, and Peeta gets the message that I don't want to just lie beside him tonight, touching him but not _touching _him.

* * *

It's about five weeks after the first day back at school, and I've given up with listening to what people are saying. For the most, the majority of the student body seems to have moved on, and apart from whispers in the girl's changing room when I get undressed for Gym class, or snooty looks in hallways, everything seems to have calmed down.

When I wake on Saturday morning, I roll over in the bed and make contact with something cool and crunchy. I open my eyes and find that a note has been pinned to Peeta's pillow. Removing the pin and putting it aside, I read the note.

_Good morning_

_I'm at Mitch's house. I'll be back soon, I would've_

_told you but I didn't want to wake you :)_

_Always,_

_Peeta._

Beside the short message is a drawing of a single dandelion, sketched quickly with a pencil, but the detail is unprecedented, every petal is perfectly shaped, and every curve of the leaves is drawn with precision.

I groan, rolling over and burying my face into the pillow. I hate it when Peeta isn't here. Waking up without him is something I prefer not to do. It's not only his presence that makes me happy, but the way his eyes are cloudy and sleepy after he's just woken up, the way his smile looks almost lazy, like he can't yet muster the strength to smile fully. His morning hair is to die for, and (I think is my favourite thing about Peeta in the morning) is the way he kisses me. Unlike other kisses which are passionate with sweltering heat behind them, morning kisses are relaxed and gentle.

What a way to wake up.

I look up at the clock and find that it is nearly eleven o'clock. Lately I've been sleeping more and more and a few times Peeta has had to wake me before I ended up sleeping for the entire day. I get dressed and make my way downstairs to make something to eat.

As I spoon soup into my mouth I hear a faint rumbling sound. _Thunder. _In District 12 we get heavy rain by the bucketfuls, thunder that sounds like a piano tumbling down the stairs, and electrifying lightening that lights up the dark sky. These storms are common in Springtime and in between Summer and Autumn, and it usually results in the rivers in the forest overflowing, which in turn makes the coal dust that covers everything in the district turn to sticky black slush that is a nightmare to deal with. Less than a minute after the thunder there is a bright flash of lightening, followed by the rain.

I decide to go to the bakery since I don't know where Mitch's house is, and even if I did I doubt my presence would be appreciated. The snow is long gone, but it's still a little cold for Springtime. Once I've finished eating, I tie my hair back into a loose braid and go upstairs to get my boots. I seal them with beeswax to help them remain waterproof.

* * *

Half an hour later, I'm pulling my boots on, with one hand on the kitchen countertop, when I feel a strange tightening in my lower stomach. I frown, pausing my movements, and wait. What I'm waiting for, I'm unsure. I let out a breath. That was weird. Usually any movement I feel is fairly gentle and I can tell that it's the baby inside me that is moving. This time, however, it isn't the baby. It's_ my _body. It's _my _body moving, not the baby shifting or stretching.

The second I stand upright with my back straight, there's a more intense feeling. I tuck my hands under my shirt and press them against my skin, feeling my stomach harden as the tight feeling returns.

"Shit." I whisper, my heart racing. This isn't what I want. I'm only seven months. What if I go into labour now? I know that it's possible -lessons at school taught me enough- but the mortality rate babies born too early in this district is extremely low. Combined factors like poor diet, few doctors or nurses, and an overall lack of sexual health care available makes the entire pregnancy process dangerous. But I _can't _go into labour now. I can't. Peeta isn't here. No one is here. I'm all alone. Taking a deep, long, calming breath, I weigh out my options. If I do go into labour, it will probably be okay. It usually takes a few hours for anything to get really serious. By then Peeta could be back. I could go and find Peeta. It would be okay.

The other option is that the baby arrives quickly. If I shouted for help _someone _would hear me. _Someone _would help.

As I think about this, as I get more and more frightened and worried about what is to come, I realise that I've been standing still for a good ten minutes –and nothing has happened. The baby is still. My stomach is still. Everything's alright.

I let out a sigh of relief and look down at my belly. "Jesus Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack!" I laugh, at myself and the whole ridiculousness of the situation. It's okay. The baby isn't coming yet.

Once I've calmed down –scolding myself for making such a fuss, for acting out of character, for not being logical and thinking everything through before jumping to conclusions... for relying on Peeta so much- I pull on my other boot and button up my coat. Stepping outside into the icy street, I turn the collar up against the cold and lock the front door. Before long I'm at the bakery, my skin prickling at the sudden change in temperature as I step into the shop. It's fairly quiet at the moment, and I'm surprised to see Mrs Mellark standing behind the till, sorting out an order with an elderly man who leans heavily on a walking stick.

"Hello," I offer quietly. Her head snaps up to face me and she wrinkles her nose. "Is there anything I can do to help out?"

"We don't need anything from you." Peeta's mother snaps, though her voice isn't as sharp as it usually is, leaning towards a softer tone.

"I- I'm sorry for causing problems, but I want to help."

"Did you not hear me the first time? We don't need your help." Mrs Mellark repeats, her eyes hard.

"I truly am sorry." I say. Mrs Mellark says goodbye to the old man, and doesn't speak until he's shut the door behind him.

"Your apologies aren't welcome. Besides, it's too late now. Too late to make everything right." She sighs, shutting the till.

"Do you ever think that this was meant to happen? Peeta's happy. I'm happy. We love each other-"

"Do not _lie _to me!"

"I'm not lying!" I cry, offended.

"You do not love my son. He's just confused. He doesn't know what he wants. But you two don't love each other, anyone can see that!" Mrs Mellark smoothes down the front of her skirt and takes a deep breath.

"I love Peeta," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and level. "I believe that he loves me. Sure, we're both confused and scared- _terrified-_ of what the future is going to be like, but we know that we can rely on each other to be there when things get tough!"

"You're not fooling anyone! You don't love Peeta!"

"You don't either!" I hiss, regretting my words as soon as I've said them. Mrs Mellark is the bitch of all bitches, but since I'm married to her son, I think it's up to me _and her _to make an effort to at least be able to be in the same room as each other without wanting to scream. I open my mouth to apologise but she cuts me off furiously.

"What do you know about my family? You know _absolutely nothing_! How dare you come into _my_ home and insult me!"

"I'm not trying to insult you, I just don't think it's fair that you can be bitch to me and I can't be a bitch right back at you!" I put my hands on my hips and Mrs Mellark snorts, though I can see the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips.

"I don't like you."

"I know."

"And I don't like the relationship you have with my son."

"Everyone's entitled to their own opinion." I force out through gritted teeth.

"So I'd like you to keep your filthy Seam nose out of my business and I'll keep mine out of yours."

"I don't believe you." I say, raising an eyebrow. Mrs Mellark shrugs her shoulders.

"Whatever," She says dismissively. "They're in the kitchen." She waves her hand vaguely in my direction. I sigh and move into the kitchen. Mr Mellark and my new brothers-in-law greet me fondly. I ask if I can help and Mr Mellark has me sat down on one of the stools by the table peeling and sorting various fruits that have been shipped in from exotic and warmer districts like Four, Nine and Eleven. An hour passes easily, filled with chatter.

"Where's Peeta then?" Fen asks as Mr Mellark leaves the room carrying several trays of freshly baked loaves, looking up from the bowl of icing that he's mixing, rolling up his sleeves to reveal heavily muscled arms. So many girls would kill to be in my position; married to Peeta Mellark, wrestling champion, and family to the other two Mellarks, also wrestling champions. They've all got the standard, Merchant blonde hair and blue eyes look, but they have something different. Something that makes them standout in the crowd. Combined with wrestling careers and work at the bakery, all three Mellark brothers are... well, in a good condition.

"He was gone when I woke up. Left a note saying he was at Mitch's house." I explain. Rye looks up at Fen in confusion.

"Weird. I thought you said you saw Mitch at the Undersee place."

"I did," Fen nods his head. "An hour or two ago."

"Was Peeta with him?"

"No. I didn't see him, at least," Fen shakes his head. Rye nudges his older brother and gives him a look that I can't decipher. I feel out of the loop, that they know something that I don't. "Uh...Give us a minute, Katniss." Fen says, his brow furrowed. Rye yanks him out through the backdoor and I crane my neck to peek through the window. Rye is talking with a grim expression on his face, and Fen is rubbing the back of his neck in an anxious motion. I can't hear what they're saying, but I can tell that it isn't good. When they come back inside again I dunk the blackberry into the pot of salted water before putting it a big bowl along with the rest of the cleaned berries.

"Everything alright?" I ask.

"Not exactly..." Rye says, pausing and running his hands through his hair.

"Shit, man. How do we say this?" Fen mutters, glancing at his brother. "If she doesn't know... he's gonna kill us if we tell him."

"Guys?" I ask.

"What the fuck is wrong with him? It's been months!" Rye snaps, staring at me blankly. This whoel situation is making me worried and uncomfortable. "Why hasn't he told her?"

"He's probably freaking out."

"No shit."

"But he does need to get a kick up the ass," Fen glowers. "You think he's there right now?"

"Most likely."

"What. An. Ass." Fen says, punctuating each word. Rye sighs, looking fed up.

"You're telling her. Not me."

"No way, I'm not dealing with some moody teenager," Fen says, turning to face me. I raise my eyebrows. Okay, this is just plain rude. They're blatantly talking about Peeta and I. "You do it."

"Fuck no."

"Rye." Fen hisses. Rye shakes his head.

"You're oldest." The middle Mellark says.

"Mature." Fen says sarcastically.

"Can you please tell me what's going on? I'm right here, literally two feet away from you." I say, picking up another handful of dark berries to sort through.

"I'm just gonna say it. And you have to promise not to... freak out on us," Fen warns. "We thought you knew. We told him to tell you."

"We did." Rye nods in confirmation.

"So don't yell at us. Or Mom. Or Dad. I don't think anyone else knows but us two."

"What is it?" I ask, pausing in sorting the berries. Fen groans.

"Peeta... he's a jerk sometimes. Doesn't think shit through and just does it without considering the outcomes. Usually he's pretty good at picking up on his own mistakes, but other times he's just stupid," Rye shifts his weight from one foot to another. "And he means well."

"Can you just _tell _me what's going on?" I ask, curious yet concerned. Fenton and Rye seem to be beating around the bush, trying to prolong the actual explanation of whatever they're about to say.

"For the last three-"

"I think it's four, actually." Rye interjects.

"Okay," Fen starts again. "For the last _four _months or so, Peeta has been working in the m-"

And then the ground shakes violently, cutting off Fen's words. Rye flies over to a tall, four-tier cake sat on a cake stand and steadies it. Fen juggles with several items, fighting to keep them in their respective places on shelves. My hand forms a fist, squashing the berries into a pulp as I wait for the shaking to stop. I hate this. I hate that this happens. I hate that the last time there was a major incident at the mines; it took the life of my father.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the shaking stops, leaving everything eerily silent and still. I take a deep breath, calming down, and relax a little. It's okay. I'm okay. We're okay. Mr Mellark comes rushing in, his hair unruly.

"Is everyone okay?" Fen nods his acquiesce.

"Shit," Fen says, breaking the silence. I look up at him. He looks panicky. "Peeta!"

"What about Peeta?" I ask. Fen shakes his head.

"He's been working in the mines for the past few months to make some money for you and the baby. We think he's there right now. Not at Mitch's house." Rye blurts out, his eyes wide.

My mouth drops open. My blood runs cold. My heart stops. A horrible chill runs through me and my stomach drops in shock at what I've just been told. It's the news I never thought would be broken to me.

"Tell me this is a joke." Mr Mellark says, his voice dangerously low.

_Peeta is in the mines._

"No, he can't be!" I exclaim, my voice high and whiney. "He said he was at Mitch's house!"

"I guess he didn't want to hurt you, you know how he is-"

_Peeta is in the mines._

I hold my head in my hands. "But he's in the mines! The fucking _mines_! How long have you two known about this? _How long?"_ I demand, not caring about keeping my language toned down around Mr Mellark, standing up and stepping closer to Fen and Rye. "I said, how long?!"

_Peeta is in the mines._

"He told us before you got married!" Rye exclaims. "He said he would tell you!"

"You assholes! Why didn't you tell me?!" I cry, spinning on my heel and making for the front door of the bakery.

"Katniss!" Mr Mellark shouts. I ignore him and push past the gaggle of customers, out the door, and down the street. My feet slap against the cobbled ground almost painfully as I run, but I've ran through four streets before having to stop to catch my breath. Everyone I've passed look shaken, and I try to find out how bad the situation is without stopping, but I haven't ran like this for a few months and find myself gasping for breath, staggering down the street like a drunken duck.

I need to find Peeta. If he's in the mines, he could be dead. He could be injured beyond repair. He could be alive and looking for me. I hang on to that last thought tightly, begging that he's okay. Begging that he hasn't been dragged away from me like my father was. Losing my father cost me my childhood. Losing Peeta would cost me my life.

I jog slowly in an effort to catch my breath, and I'm several hundred yards from where the cobbled Merchant roads merge into the packed dirt of the Seam when someone grabs my arm. I yank my limb out of the person's grip.

"Katniss!" I whip around to find Rye, with Fen and Rye dodging frantic people as they approach.

"Let me go!" I growl, trying to remove my arm from Rye's grip when he grabs me again. "You didn't tell me anything! He obviously wasn't going to tell me! Why did you keep it from me? I could've got him out!"

"Just listen!" Rye shouts.

"He'll be okay Katniss." Mr Mellark says, trying to reassure me.

"How do you know that? What if he's dead? What if he's _dead_?" I push Rye away with a surprising amount of force and set off running again, only to be joined by Rye and Fen on both sides, Mr Mellark lagging a little way behind, and we run through the Seam down to the mines. The closer we get to the mines, the more people we see that are rushing in the same direction as we are.

"The east columns collapsed!" I hear one person shout.

"It's the busiest shift!" Another bellows. Among similar exclamations are people calling for people, people who were working deep below in the ground when the accident happened. My head is spinning –most likely from oxygen deprivation- and I can't think straight. So I do what I know best and run. I run because Peeta _can't _be gone. He _has _to be alright. He can't leave me alone. He'd never meet his child. His child would never meet his father. I wouldn't be able to show my husband how much I love him.

The land underfoot is suddenly bare- void of tufts of the scrubby grass that grows so well in the Seam or any other vegetation. On all sides there are slag heaps that tower above us. There's a small hut on one side that know to be the mine manager's 'office'. There must be almost a hundred frantic people milling around, waiting for survivors to be brought up in the stifling, unsafe cage of an elevator. Rye runs to the mine manager and I follow close behind, all the while scanning the crowds for a blonde head. I find a few, but they aren't Peeta.

"Can you see him?" I gasp out, clutching at my chest.

"Not yet," Fen says, searching through the crowds. Mr Mellark has suddenly gone extremely pale. "But he'll be okay. He's alright." Fen continues, but he looks upset as well. I hate to know what I look like. I run towards Rye and a very stressed-out looking mine manager.

"How the fuck could you let this happen?" Rye yells, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Sir, I assure you that this is not intentional. We're doing our best to get everyone out. The elevator gets jammed sometimes, so we need to do it carefully."

"Damned sure you do! This whole place is a load of shit! Why doesn't the Capitol make it safe?" Rye demands, furious. I tug on his arm.

"Rye shut up," I say. Rye swears profusely under his breath and paces back and forth. "What happened?" I ask the manager.

"We think the east columns collapsed."

"And? Was anyone in there?" I ask.

"Not directly, but there were several parties who were nearby." The manager says, holding his clipboard out and ticking off people as they stagger past, covered in dust. None of them are Peeta.

"Oh my God," I whisper. I realise that I'm shaking- convulsing, almost- and drag my hands through my hair, messing up my braid. "Is Peeta Mellark down there?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"I can't tell you, ma'am, unless you are of direct family of the workers. Confidentiality." The manager says. He turns to address another tearful woman. I grab the side of his jacket and yank it, hard.

"I am his wife! My name is Katniss Mellark. Now you tell me where Peeta Mellark is or I swear I'll go down there myself!" I spit angrily.

"You're not old enough to be married. It isn't legal." The manager says, flustered.

"Nothing in this whole damned district is legal!" I screech.

"Confidentiality-"

"Confidentiality my ass!" I yell, pointing down at my stomach. "Now tell me where the fuck my husband is! I have a right to know as his wife and mother of his child!"

The manager consults his clipboard. "Peeta Mellark, number 57803 is still unaccounted for." He says.

"Thank you!" I snap, turning on my heel and colliding into Mr Mellark. It's then that my anger lessen a little and I burst into tears.

"He's okay, Katniss. Don't worry." Mr Mellark says, rubbing my back. He leads me over to sit down further away from the entrance of the mine, which is spewing thick black clouds of dust. There are horrible screeching sounds coming from deep within the darkness. I slump down onto a boulder and take deep breathes.

"What if he's dead? What if he's hurt?" I ask. Mr Mellark sits beside me as Rye paces, deep in thought, and Fen runs off. "He can't be gone. Tell me he's okay."

"He'll be okay, Katniss. He's tougher than he looks, trust me. If he could put himself in danger like this, he'll come out unharmed." Peeta's father says, though he looks like he's trying not to cry himself. I'm suddenly angry again.

"I hate him! Why would he do this to us?"

"You don't mean that-"

"I do! We don't need more money, he's just being stupid! He knows that I hate this place after what happened with my Dad!"

"Katniss-"

"Why would he do this?" I wail, breaking down into violent sobs. Mr Mellark pulls me into his side but says nothing. I sob into his shirt and I feel his tears on the top of my head. We sit there, side by side, watching people being reunited, watching people cry and scream and curse everything, from the Capitol to the very ground they stand on.

Rushing forward, clicking into place like the flick of a switch, all the things I should've noticed fit together in my mind. Peeta has been so tired, though I didn't know why. He slept full nights like I did. The coal dust on his boots. The nights when I'd wake to an empty bed, and the bathroom light on. The way he'd get a grave look on his face when I mentioned the mines. The subtle nods that he exchanged with passing miners.

_Why didn't I put it all together sooner? _

_Why was I so stupid?_

I try to clear my head. I try to think of positive things- of Peeta's smile, his eyes, his hair, his kindness, his happiness- but it only makes me more frightened for him. He's such a good person. He doesn't deserve to be lost below the ground in a place he was never meant to be in. My father's body was never recovered, and the small stone that represented his grave was placed on untarnished ground because there was no coffin to bury. This can't happen. Peeta deserves to live a long and happy life with the girl he loves until he's old and grey and possibly slightly crazy with his children and grandchildren around him.

With a jolt, I realise that Peeta deserves to live a long and happy life with the girl he loves- and that that girl is _me. _That child is the one I'm carrying. He can't be lost deep beneath the surface. He should be able to watch his last sunset. He shouldn't be buried in the dark where the light never reaches, where hopes and dreams are crushed, where countless souls have been trapped in the earth.

Fen comes rushing back to us after a long while. The crowd is beginning to thin out. It's getting later and later. I've been sitting here for over an hour now. Less and less people are coming out. I'm beginning to lose hope, bit by bit. "I've been checking everyone who comes out. The elevator master says that no one has been reported as dead or seriously injured yet. Everyone just seems shocked but glad to be alive," He takes a deep, shaking breath and laughs a little. "I've never seen anyone so glad to see the slag heaps before." He says.

"Is he okay?" A lone voice asks. We all look up to find Mrs Mellark, Mom and Prim standing in a little huddle. "Where is he?" Mrs Mellark repeats.

After a long while of hesitation, Mr Mellark gets up and speaks. "We don't know. Fewer and fewer people are arriving in the elevator." His voice breaks at the end. Mrs Mellark actually looks distraught. Her husband steps forward to comfort her. Mom and Prim envelope me in their arms. Prim sobs into my side.

"He'll be okay," Mom says. "Not like your father. Peeta will come out alive and then you can yell at him."

"I want to yell at him." I whisper into her ear.

"I want to hug him." Prim cries.

"I know." I say, feeling numb.

And that's how we wait. Me, Prim, Mom, Mr and Mrs Mellark, Fen, and Rye. All standing in a group, waiting with a few other people. The mine manager is running around with his clipboard, asking people questions. We wait for what feels like hours. I begin to shake with cold, having forgotten my coat in my haste to escape from the bakery. Fen gives me his coat. Rye gives Prim a shoulder ride, trying to keep her spirits up. I rest my hands on my stomach and wallow. The manager and elevator master discuss something before reporting back to the small groups of people left behind.

"We're going to send down some workers to check for anyone who's still down there," He says, looking around at the group gathered. He looks at Mom and Prim and then at me, his eyes flickering with recognition. He knows the Everdeen family. He was there when Dad died. Pity fills his eyes. "But we think that the last have already gone home."

"No!" I cry. "You're wrong! Send down the rescue people! Get them out of there!"

"I'll go down there and find him!" Prim speaks up.

"No you won't! Mom snaps.

"How long will it be?" Mr Mellark asks, his arm around his wife. Mrs Mellark catches my eye and holds it for a few long seconds before looking down. I bite my lip, stand up, and walk towards the manager. He looks slightly wary of me.

"Please get him out." I whisper. He nods his head.

"I'll try." He says sadly.

We watch as the elevator of two recue men equipped with lamps and pickaxes sinks into the gloom.

We wait as the manager talks to an old woman and a younger woman with a three year old, explaining that there are three men unaccounted for. Peeta, the old woman's brother, and the younger woman's husband.

We wish that everything was different.

We listen intently for the sound of the elevator creaking and groaning, dragging itself up to the surface.

The elevator master wipes his brow.

And then, echoing through the silence, we hear it. The screeching of twisted metal. All at once, everyone holds their breath. I stand back up again from the boulder, watching the entrance of the mine as the butter-yellow light from the lamps moves about. A group of people step out into the open.

One pair of boots.

Two.

That's the two rescue men.

Three.

The old woman cries out, running forward. "Danial!" She croaks. Danial envelopes his sister in a hug, tears cutting lines on his creased, dusty face.

A fourth pair of boots emerge.

The young woman shrieks joyfully. The small child runs forward, screaming 'Daddy!'.

My heart is in my throat, watching the small child running to her father. A family put back together again.

"Peeta?" I whisper, though it seems ten times louder than usual. I step forward.

A fifth pair of boots appear from the gloom. My eyes run up the person's body. Battered overalls, a cracked black hardhat. The person removes their hat. Blonde hair drenched in blood and dust. And they the person looks up.

Blue eyes, clear as day.

I've never seen anything so beautiful.


	41. Chapter 41: Good luck and Brute Force

**The response to the previous chapter was amazing! Thank you so much! :) You all made me laugh with your words of how I made you cry and that you want to kill me... but you haven't abandoned me, have you? ;)**

* * *

**-Peeta-**

We didn't need school to teach us about the grim side of District 12. Granted, there is more grimness in this world, especially in this district, that pushes aside the small beacons of hope that burn, pushing the light away to make everything dark.

I was three when I experienced my first taste of mining perils. It was a fairly small accident- nobody died- but one of the men who was caught up trying to push his workmates to safety was carted through town from a usually disused mine shaft, and to the Everdeen household. On that fateful day, I was running- well, _toddling _on my fat baby legs- from the bakery to the train station so I could see the silent Capitol train with the shiny metal outside and the driver who always had different coloured hair each time he arrived.

* * *

"_Peety!" Mr Mellark called, hurrying after his energetic three-year-old, with his two eldest in tow. Fenton and Rye sat in the wooden cart he was pulling along, held on for dear life on the white-knuckle ride through town. "Peety! How on Panem did you get out of the cart?" He dodges the people who fill the square, desperately trying to keep an eye on the little blonde head of curls that bob up and down as he runs ahead. Peeta is usually so calm and well-behaved; it's Fenton and Rye who are in a seemingly permanent hyper state. He wonders what could've caused his youngest son to run off- a giggling, bouncing ball of energy. _

_And then the ground shakes, groaning, over-mined ground shifting below their feet. _

_It's over almost in an instant but everyone freezes, someone screams, and it's as if time has stood still. _

_Peeta freezes, his happy giggles cut off as he stumbles and falls, landing on his bottom, his eyes wide. For a second he just sits there, hands absentmindedly patting the patchy ground, before bursting into tears. The sound is loud and clear, and jolts everyone around him to move, to come back to themselves._

"_Daddy!" He wails, confused as to why the ground started to shake. An old woman next to him spares him a glance but doesn't do anything, so when his father emerges from the crowds; he reaches up for the person that he knows will keep him safe. _

"_Hey, hey," Mr Mellark says, bringing the cart to a stop and scooping Peeta up from the floor in one smooth motion. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't worry." He hugs the small child to his chest and turns to face his other two children. _

"_Was it the mines?" Fenton asks, his eyes solemn. Fenton is still young, but old enough to understand that the people who are always covered in coal dust work in a bad place._

"_Yes," Mr Mellark nods his head. Peeta wails into his shoulder and he hugs him tightly, patting his back and murmuring soothing words into his ear until he's calm. "Fen? Rye? Do you think you're strong enough to be able to pull the cart?" He asks._

"_Yeah!" Rye exclaims. Mr Mellark smiles. He's proud to say that his children are always up for a challenge. Fenton and Rye scramble out of the cart and drag it along. Mr Mellark walks behind them, keeping an eye on whether they're struggling or not, and holds Peeta against his hip. Peeta sticks his thumb in his mouth and rests his head on his father's shoulder, watching all the people walking around. He knows that it's okay. Daddy said that it was okay, and it's all better now. Mr Mellark looks down at his son's chubby hand that is resting in the middle of his chest, and finds that squished in his palm is a piece of chocolate cake. He leans his head back to look at his son's face. It's covered in cake._

_So, that's what's made him so hyper. He should've known. While he was busy, moving in between the kitchen and the front of the shop while his wife slept upstairs, drowning in sleeping pills, the chocolate cake that was in the patterned tin on the table kept moving about. There was less cake as time went by. Peeta was hyper because Fenton and Rye had fed him __**an entire chocolate cake. **_

_Once they reached the train station, Peeta was half asleep in his father's arms. Mr Mellark was regretting bringing all three of his children along, but there was no one at home to take care of them. He sat Rye and Peeta on the bench at the train station, asking Rye to keep Peeta occupied, and went to load sacks of flour onto the cart with the assistance of Fenton, who was stronger than he looked. _

_Peeta watched his father carrying the big sacks of flour. He wanted to help. Rye was pointing to something, talking about trains and about how Peeta was such a baby for crying and that he wouldn't be big and strong like himself and Fen if he cried like a girl, so Peeta slipped off the bench without his brother noticing. He darted forward, heading for his father, and ran straight into a group of people, who were carrying a groaning man on a plank of wood._

"_Let us pass!" A man shouted, pushing the small boy aside. Peeta staggered back and let the coal-covered men pass. He watched in horror at the person who was lying on the makeshift stretcher; the blackened face, flesh ripped away to display the bone, and the man's leg, which was contorted at a horrible angle, blood pouring from underneath a hastily put together tourniquet. The man groaned, his eyes dazed in pain. Peeta screamed, his voice high and piercing. Rye jumped up, realising that his brother wasn't beside him, and Mr Mellark ran forward, abandoning the sacks of flour._

"_You couldn't have hidden it?" He asks, his voice angry as he yells at the miners. He doesn't mean to yell, of course, but he believes that children- especially __**three-year-olds**__- shouldn't have to see mangled limbs and faces like that. He kneels down in front of Peeta and squeezes his arms._

"_That man, Daddy!" Peeta cries out. "I could see his bones!" _

"_I know."_

"_But bones are on the inside! Why are they on the outside? What's wrong with him?" Peeta asked, frightened and confused as he peered over his father's broad shoulder at the miners that were disappearing into the distance._

"_There's nothing wrong with that man, Peety. He's just been in an accident," Mr Mellark smiled reassuringly at his son. Fen and Rye stood beside him, hugging up their father. "He'll be okay."_

"_Where is he going?"_

"_To the Everdeens'. In the Seam. Mrs Everdeen is a good doctor- she can help him get better." That was the first time Peeta heard the Everdeen name. He didn't remember it, however, and it didn't affect him until two years later, when he was at school, and the dark-haired girl with the braids and red dress sang The Valley Song. _

"_Promise?" Peeta asked, his blue eyes wide and fresh with tears. Fen and Rye waited for their father's answer. Mr Mellark didn't know what to say. He loved his boys. He loved them more than anything. He knew that they looked up to him, especially since they didn't really have a mother. Should he lie and say that he could promise, sheltering them from the cruelness of reality? Or should he tell the truth, and tell them that he couldn't promise that he'd be okay, but that he hoped the man would be okay instead? He bit his lip, hesitating._

"_Yes, I promise." He finally said. Peeta smiled, displaying his pure white, stubby baby teeth. Fen and Rye nodded, smiling. It was a little white lie. And seeing his children smile was something he wanted to see more often. _

_Almost two years later, when eleven-year-old Fenton broke his arm (they told everyone he fell over in the bakery kitchen), Farrell Mellark pressed an icepack to Fen's arm and took him to the Everdeens, where Lowell Everdeen opened the door, shook the baker's hand and guided them into the room where his wife sat with dark-haired Katniss Everdeen and golden-haired, baby Prim. Dahlia Everdeen shooed her husband and daughters into the living room, brought the Mellarks into the kitchen, gave Fenton a rag to bite on, and reset the young boy's arm. He asked about the miner that was carried through the train station two years before, and was glad to be told that the man was well, that he was back at work and had a daughter now. _

_Farrell Mellark was glad. It meant that he hadn't lied._

* * *

As the years went by, I began to appreciate how lucky I was to be born into the family that I had. Okay, maybe our family _life _wasn't exactly happy, but we had food, a warm bed, and a roof over our heads. I even have a job waiting for me, since Fen and Rye don't want the bakery. My whole life has been given to me on a silver platter, from a very early age.

Mom always wanted a girl. When Fen was born, Dad told her that it was okay. They could have another child, and that maybe that time it would be a girl. Instead, they got Rye. My brothers were born almost exactly a year apart, in the middle of summer, but I'm three years younger than Rye. To Mom, I was the last attempt. She prepared for a girl, despite my father's advice that she wait and see instead of spending loads of money on pink baby grows, dolls, and soft, pale pink blankets. Mom used to make me do all the laundry, so that when I put the folded clothes and sheets into the linen cupboard upstairs I would be able to see the whole shelf dedicated to the daughter who wasn't to be.

Sometimes I spot Mom standing in the linen cupboard, running her hands over the soft, unused clothes and blankets, holding the tiny woollen booties in her palm, and the look on her face makes me sad. It makes me feel ashamed of _myself. _

When I was born, Mom refused to hold me or even look at me for almost three weeks after. Dad ended up looking after his wife, two young sons, the bakery, and his baby son. From an early age I was told that I was a mistake, that I wasn't wanted. Mom's resentment to me was clear. Dad said Mom wanted a girl because she grew up in a household of boys, and that she always wanted a sister, so a daughter was the second best thing.

I find myself wondering what life would've been like if Mom had received the girl she so desperately wanted. Maybe Mom would be happy. Maybe she wouldn't have beaten her children. It must be hard for her to have three sons, the eldest a boisterous man-child who's quiet in public, the middle just boisterous, full stop, and the third the boy who should've been a girl. And now the biggest disappointment in her life has knocked up a _Seam girl, and married her. _

Katniss and I head to the bakery, hand in hand, noses turning pink in the icy wind, and while Katniss helps Rye in the shop, I assist my father. Mom hasn't been feeling right for the past few days, and now that the snow has begun to let up, floods of people from all corners of the district have been flooding into the shop to by hearty breads to keep them going until the rest of the market opens up.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask, eyeing the pile of unwashed dishes. Dad looks up from the pastry he's rolling out and nods.

"There's a load of laundry upstairs. I know you're good at laundry. Can you just sort it and put it in the linen cupboard?"

"Sure."

"And bring some more pills up for your mother." Dad calls. I flash him a thumbs up and head upstairs, pulling the cupboard under the sink open and fishing out the pot of pills Mom takes. I fill a glass with water and take the bottle of pills and water into my parents' room. It's silent when I turn the knob and open the door, completely dark, the heavy curtains drawn tightly over the window. Careful as to not knock anything over, I find the bedside table and put down the glass and pills where Mom will be able to see it.

"Shut the door. There's a draft." Mom's voice grumbles from the darkness, centimetres from my ear.

"I'm just going out. I left you some water and the pill bottle on the-" I explain, backing away towards the door.

"I know. Thank you. Now leave." Mom snaps. I nod my head and exit the room, shutting the door tightly behind me. On with the laundry.

It's an automatic process, ingrained into my brain due to years of chores. First, you collect the dirty clothes that need washing from the drawstring bags that hang on hooks on each bedroom door, and then you sort the darks from the lights, and the delicates from the not-so-delicates. Once that's completed, you take the washing down to the basement; load it into the clunky old washing machine in the corner of the basement. After the clothes are dry, you take the wet clothes out to the washing line, and bring the dry clothes in, iron the dry, fold the dry, and put them away in the linen cupboard for people to collect to put in their respective wardrobes. At first, the whole process took hours for me to complete, but now it takes just under an hour. But the clothes are all washed today, so all I need to do is tidy them away. I carry the piles of laundry up from the basement and prop the door of the linen closet open with my foot, reaching up to put the laundry in its usual place.

Once all the laundry is up on the shelves, I turn to shut the door, but the absence of the usual piles of pink baby clothes and toys stops me. I frown, staring at the empty space, at the crack in the wall, and wonder where they've gone. Did Mom move them? I can't think of why she would. Maybe it's because I don't live here anymore, and she doesn't have anyone to show the clothes off to. She could've sold them, but I highly doubt it.

* * *

"People've been sayin' that you did this for a dare," A gruff voice croaks, throat choked in the dusty air. I turn my attention away from the rocky outcrop I'm digging at and peer through the gloom. The man next to me is old- his skin hanging limply off his face, but even in the pale light of the oil lamp you can see the determination in his eyes. "Why'd you do that? What's wrong with you?" The man continues.

"My friends don't know about this. I signed up for this job of my own accord." I reply. The man frowns, clearly confused, and leans against the pickaxe, the blade inches from me.

"How old are you?" He asks. I hesitate, mulling possible answers over in my mind. Technically, my working here is illegal. The mine manager told me that if I caught, it would be my fault. _'You signed up!' _He said. _'You take the blame!'_ You have to be eighteen to work in the mines, and at seventeen, I'm branded as crazy for not only breaking the law, but doing this in the first place.

"Uh..." I struggle with an answer. The man nods his head.

"That's what I thought."

"I have a good reason for doing this-"

"I bet you do," The man cuts me off. "But why would you work _here _of all places? You townies have life on the surface. You have a choice. Us Seamers have to hike their skirts up and get on with it."

"And I respect that, I really do," I say. The man raises an eyebrow. "But we need the money."

"We? You're the Mellark kid, righ'?" I nod my head. "But you lot have loadsa money."

"I know. But I'm not talking about my parents and brothers. I was talking about my fiancé." I say.

"Fiancé? They get younger and younger... each year, I swear..." He shakes his head and resumes digging at the rock. "Next they'll tell me their havin' kids before they're outta school."

"And my kid." I say. The man gives me a look and then bursts out laughing. I can't help the smirk that finds its way onto my face.

"Oh, brother," The man slaps me on the shoulder. He disappears around the corner to where a few other men are working, and over the sound of grinding metal and rock, I hear him shout: _'It's true! The Mellark boy's girl is knocked up!' _Which is followed by laughter and sarcastic cheers.

* * *

The men in the mines are nice guys, they really are. Apart from a couple bitter ones who glare at everyone, it's easy to make friends. I don't know if it's the desperation that seeps into your bones as you're lowered deeper into the belly of the monster below the district roads that makes you eager for companionship, or if Seam people are simply friendly people. I like to think that it's a bit of both.

Surprisingly, I don't see Gale. I expected to spot him at least once, but after my second week of working, I'm relieved to find that he takes the afternoon shifts. He would undoubtedly tell Katniss about me working here if he did see me, so I'm kind of glad that he doesn't see me. I wonder where he is, however. I haven't seen him around town, in the Seam, and Katniss doesn't talk about seeing him. It's suspiciously quiet around the Gale Hawthorne front.

* * *

Katniss is fast asleep when I drag myself out of bed. I haven't slept at all, my thoughts consumed with dread of what today will bring. The mine manager said that I needed to work for a few hours more in order to get the last payment. Capitol rules say that all workers must complete a full set of work hours in order to get paid, or the money that is taken back into the Capitol. And no one can afford for that to happen. I asked the manager if he couldn't just give the money to the other workers who deserve and need it more than I do, but he said that the Capitol would pick up on 'free money' being handed out when no work was done.

So here I am, early on a cold Saturday morning, dragging myself out of bed, away from my beautiful wife, to go and work in the place she hates. To the place that claimed her father, the most important man in her life. I scribble a note for her on a scrap of paper from my sketchpad and pin it to my pillow so that Katniss will see it when she wakes up. It surprises me how easily the lie about going to Mitch's house comes flowing out of the end of pencil, so, as if it could soften the blow, I sketch a dandelion by the side of the message, grab my shoes, and kiss Katniss on the forehead, smoothing my thumb over her cheek, memorising the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the dark lashes that frame her eyes. She looks so peaceful in her sleep and takes on a child-like quality that she doesn't have in consciousness, which is when she pulls the barrier up and is back to her usual guarded self.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." I whisper, adjusting the blankets around her body, because I have to promise her in order to promise myself.

* * *

Peeking over the tops of the mountains, turning the land purple and green as it rises, the sun climbs steadily as I walk down the quiet streets. The Merchant Quarters are silent; there are no babies crying, no barking dogs, and even the mines are quiet as all the machinery stops as the nightshift ends and the morning shift begins. The Seam isn't quiet however, and I can hear dogs barking, babies crying, birds tweeting. A tiny little girl wobbles unsteadily past me on a _very _rusty bike. I wonder if she got it from the Hob.

I nod in greeting to the men who pass me, noting the way their eyes brighten at the sight of the sun, of freedom. Some pull of their hardhats, shake their heads free of dust, and pour water over their faces, washing away the coal dust that hasn't been embedded in the lines of their faces. The mine manager nods to let me know that he's registered me down as I pass. It's steadily getting warmer, and as I join a group of miners waiting to be lowered down in the elevator, feeling out of place with my blonde hair and blue eyes, our breath steams out into the cold air like a horse's.

"Have a good day, gentlemen." The elevator master grunts, swaying back and forth on his feet as we pass him, one hand resting on the lever, the other hovering over a set of buttons. It gets decidedly colder as we enter the dark mouth of the mine, and I grit my teeth, switching on my headlamp once the warped metal doors of the elevator grind shut, the elevator master shouts _'GOING DOWN!' _and the metal box jumps, groans and finally begins to lower us down, shaking the entire time. Despite the fact that my... colleagues... tell me that I needn't worry, I have to hang on to the chain link section of the elevator until the doors are yanked open and I'm shoved forward.

There isn't much talking as we collect a bright yellow canary, tools, and whistles, or on the journey down, deeper into the ground to today's location, our backs pressed against the jagged rock, the carts filled with coal whizzing past us, inches from our noses. But once we've reached out location, shivering in the cold, musty air, there are jokes are stories and songs that help us pass the time. Someone passes around a flask of amber liquor that makes my nose hurt when I take a sip, but the day goes well.

I enjoy hearing people's stories. One of the most memorable was a tale from hundreds of years before the Dark Days, back in a time period call the 'Victorian Era'. In that time, children as young as eight were sent into the mines in a far off country to help dig coal up, and since the hours were so long, many children used to fall asleep on the tracks that guided the carts up to the surface and back down into the ground. The most common victims were the ones who were paid a pitiful amount to sit in tiny dugout alcoves by the trapdoors, pulling a lever whenever they heard a cart approaching so the trapdoor would fly open and the cart would continue on its journey. There were many horrific accidents, so fellow miners and parents of those children would tell stories of terrifying monster that lived in the dark shadows of the mine shafts. _'They said that if you fell asleep you would dream of the monster, hear the clanking of its chains as it walked, and it would drag you into the darkness if you didn't wake up.' _Marty, a miner with a crooked nose told us as we worked.

Other tales seem to be made up, they're so surreal. Talk of rebellion, of secret, underground cities, hidden from the Capitol. Of Mockingjays and uprisings. Of the end of the Capitol's oppressive rule as we know it.

"Is it true?" I finally ask in a hushed voice, curiosity getting the better of me. "Are the rumours true?"

"I damned well hope so," A man with a hunched back grumbles. "Apparently it's actually happening. People aren't happy, boy. They want equality."

I stay silent, mostly because I don't know what to say. And uprising? We'd never survive it. The Capitol would be there to control us in an instant, whether it was from bargaining or brute force.

I decide to be wary of rumours, never quite believing them, but never quite dismissing them either, clinging on to the idea of the Capitol not being in control. It's a frightening idea, to be honest.

The first time the canary stopped singing, everything went still, and eerily silent.

"Everybody out!" Someone yelled, and in a single line, oddly calm, everyone moved towards the exit, only for the bird to start singing again. Everyone _laughed_, while I stood there shaken and sweaty, counting down the hours before I could go home and hug Katniss.

* * *

I have half an hour left of my final shift, and then I'm calling it quits. Fen and Rye's words echo around in my head and thoughts of what would happen to Katniss and our baby and of my family if I never came out of here have forced me to think everything through more clearly. The mood between the miners has definitely been lifted; the prospect of getting out of here and going home to something to eat and good night's sleep putting smiles on our faces.

These smiles vanish however, when there's a loud cracking sound from up above.

"Shh!" A young man whispers, narrowing his eyes to listen. Everyone stops talking. Everyone stops moving. I think everyone stops breathing. I look around, over my shoulder, and then my whole world shifts. The ground groans and starts to crumble above and below us, dust raining down. Everyone runs shouting and yelling for people to hurry up and fit in to the elevator, and a few men make it into the metal box, but it's too full.

"We'll come back!" One of the men shouts as they disappear in the elevator. Someone curses loudly. I'm frozen.

This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. I think of Katniss. What is she doing right now? Did she feel the ground move? Is she okay? My heart clenches painfully in my chest. She'll be told about me working here if I die. She won't believe them- she'll scream and shout. I wonder if my brothers will tell her.

_Oh, Katniss. I don't want to die. _

_I promised you I'd come back._

"There's an escape route at the end of the passage!" One of the miners says, pointing along the passage we've just run out of. "It's blocked up but we can break through it!"

"That's crazy! We should wait here! The elevator will be back in a minute!" Another man argues.

"The ground is going to cave-in in a minute, idiot. I'm going to get out of here rather than wait for that piece of shit to get back!" Two sides are immediately formed, staggering over the shaking ground. The majority decides to wait for the elevator while two older men head into the gloom.

"Your choice, man." A person from the elevator group shrugs his shoulders. I turn on my heel, ducking out of the way of falling rock, and follow the two men that disappeared into the gloom, following the bobbing light of an oil lamp.

"Hey, wait up!" I yell, stumbling after the two men. "How far away is the exit?"

"Not far," The taller of the two men explains hurriedly. "But we'll be able to break through the blockages if we get there quickly." We duck out of the way of falling rock, twisting deeper into the darkness. I turn off my headlamp to save the battery- the oil lamp can't be re-lit. As we jump down to a lower level, my hardhat slips off, clattering to the floor and sliding out of sight. I curse out loud and run to grab it, but not before a chunk of rock falls from the ceiling and hits me on the head.

"What the fuck, man?" The shorter guy hisses, snatching my hat up and shoving me forward. I clutch at my head, feeling warm blood seeping through my hair, onto my fingers, and down the side of my face.

"My head..." I groan, suddenly feeling dizzy.

"Just... just keep going, okay?" The guy says, pushing me onwards. There's an almighty smashing noise –much louder than the first explosion- and the ceiling up ahead caves in completely, sending all three of us scrambling backwards to get out of the way of falling rock.

"Fuck!" The taller man shouts.

"Are we stuck here?" The shorter man asks. The taller man nods. "Thanks a lot, asshole. Now we're stuck here!"

"Hey, I thought we could make it! Don't blame me, Danial!"

"Of course I'm going to blame you! You got me into this mess!" The shorter guy snarls, jabbing his finger into the other guy's chest.

"You didn't have to follow me! I'm stuck here too!"

"Can you just calm the fuck down!?" I bellow, interrupting them. "I think we should head back, towards the elevator." It's quiet for a long time, but we eventually agree to try that, only for us to come to a dead end with more collapsed ceiling, and we end up trapped in between the 'abandoned exit shaft' and the elevator.

"Hello?" Danial calls out. "Is anyone there?" There's no answer. The remaining miners that got trapped underground must have managed to get onto the elevator. My stomach drops. We're stuck here. Alive, but stuck here.

* * *

Danial checks his watch. We've been stuck here for nearly two hours now, and haven't heard any human activity on the other side of the rubble wall. I've learnt that Danial has no wife or children, but he does have twin sister, Florrie. The other man, Jeph has a fiancé and young daughter, Sophy. Both Danial and Jeph are surprised to hear that, at seventeen, I'm married with a child on the way.

"Christ, when I was your age I was dickin' around at the slagheap." Danial chuckles, rubbing his chin. Jeph snorts.

"I was on the wrestlin' team," He says, before turning to me. "You Mellarks wrestle, don't ya?"

"Yep, all three of us."

"You want a boy then? Carry on the line of wrestlers?"

"I don't mind. Girl or boy, I'll love it." I say, pressing my hand down on the gash in my head to try and stop the blood flow.

"You're nice, man. A lot of kids your age wouldn't take on as much responsibility as you have," Jeph says. "_Especially_ with a Seam girl."

"I don't think it matters if you're from the Seam or not. I love Katniss," I say, inspecting my hand to see if my wound is still bleeding. I can feel blood on the side of my face, by my left ear. Jeph nods. Danial stretches his legs out in front of him. "You said you had a kid... Sophy? What's she like?" I ask, turning the attention away from me. The last thing I want to do when trapped here, with death a high risk, is to talk about Katniss and our baby, the people I would lose if we stay down here.

"Completely bonkers, keeps us up until God forsaken hours almost every night, but I love her."

"See, I've never missed out on a night's sleep," Danial winks. "No kids equal more sleep."

"I wish you had told me that before I knocked her up." Jeph shakes his head. I grin.

"That Everdeen is a tough girl though, you'll be alrigh' if you stick with 'er," Danial stares at the ground. "Knew her father, I did. Lowell was a great man. Always knew how to cheer ya up."

"No offense, but I can't believe you've come down 'ere, considering what happened to that girl's Daddy." Jeph says, looking curiously at me. I rest my head back on the rock.

"I don't really know what I was thinking, but I wanted to have enough savings. I'm aware of how much kids cost-"

"I'll second that." Jeph nods his head, his hair falling into his eyes.

"So I... I guess I was just freaking out. Should've known something like this would happen," I grumble. "Just my luck."

"We'll be alrigh'." Jeph says.

"They'll get us out eventually."

"That won't matter when I've died from blood loss." I mutter. Danial stands up and shines the light of my head torch onto my wound and pokes at it. I hiss my annoyance.

"Yeah, it's slowin' down. The bleedin', I mean." He says.

"You sure?"

"I've seen plenty of injuries, son. I think you'll be okay," The older man reassures me. "You 'ave to get your girl's mother to sew it up though."

'_Your girl'. _

_I like that._

"We should at least try to dig our way out." Jeph says.

"Carefully, though. We don't know if the roof will cave in even more." Danial says, looking doubtful. We dig at the rock desperately, sick of being stuck down here. My hands scrabble aimlessly at the rock, pulling away a few pieces, and I end up ripping away part of my nail when my hand gets trapped between the rocks. I tear away part of my shirt to wrap up my hand. Danial gets his hand caught as well, and Jeph curses loudly, mostly Seam words I've never heard being used in the Merchant Quarters, when a jagged chunk of rock falls onto his foot.

"It's useless," I snap, throwing my hands into the air. "We're stuck."

"They'll send 'elp. It's probably looser on the other side."

"I just wanna get out of here!" I shout, losing my shit. Danial and Jeph just sit back down, letting me rant. I eventually get it together and sit down, and just stare into the darkness.

* * *

My fingers are numb.

My heart _aches_.

* * *

Any feeling of hope that I've built up during these three long hours (that stretch on like years, especially when the oil lamp burns out, plunging us into darkness, unwilling to use the head torch in case we end up trapped here for a long time), melts away, leaving me stripped to the bone. I close my eyes, listening to the wind wailing through the darkness, to the sound of water dripping, to the sound of Jeph breathing, Danial breathing, and me breathing. Somehow my brain hijacks memories of Katniss and her family and my family and turns them into nightmares, the longer I'm here in the dark, unseeing, unfeeling.

Katniss' song-like laughter replaces the wind, and I keep hearing footsteps. I swear I see Dad walking away, off into the dark passage way, his hair glowing in the darkness. I keep feeling ghostly hands on my shoulders, and I swear they're Rye and Fen messing me around.

"You're awfully quiet. You two alrigh'?" Danial asks, and his voice shatters the silence.

"Could be better." Jeph sighs, his voice sad and anxious. I say nothing, but sigh to let them know that I'm still here.

I think I fall asleep at one point, slumped against the wall, my body simply giving up, exhausted. I dream of a faceless child, their hair tucked up into woollen hat so I can't see it, that runs through the meadow, giggling. And then there's Katniss, beautiful as always, running after the child. She calls to the child and scoops them into her arms, carrying them over the ground.

_They're heading for the graveyard._

Jolted back into my previous nightmare, I realise that Katniss is going to my grave, like she promised. I scream and shot and yell her name, begging her to turn around, to see me. She never does.

"Peeta!" Someone is shaking my shoulder. "Wake the fuck up, man!" It's Jeph.

"What?" I mumble groggily, disorientated for a while before I realise where I am.

"Put your hardhat on, buddy. We can 'ear the elevator. People are comin'!" Danial says, not bothering to hide the excitement in his voice. That wakes me up and I stand, carefully putting my hat on, the jagged crack splitting it in two shows where it struck the groud, and stretching my limbs. We can hear muffled creaking from the other side of the rubble wall, and we all listen intently, trying to decide if we're just imaging things. But it's real. The elevator is moving.

"How long have we been down 'ere?" Jeph asks.

"Four and an 'alf hours," Danial says. "The sun's goin' to set in half an hour."

"Thank fuck for that." I whisper, and Jeph claps me on the back.

"It's been nice gettin' to know you guys," He jokes light-heartedly. I switch on the lamp on my hardhat. "It really has."

"I'll definitely remember our little get together." I continue.

"Sorry for gettin' you guys into this mess. I honestly thought we'd make it." Danial says.

"It's my fault for being clumsy and dropping my hat." I shrug.

"If you hadn't 'ave dropped it, we wouldn't have stopped, and we would've ended up crushed under those boulders," Danial smiles, his face tired in the yellow light of head torch. "So thanks."

"Thanks to you two as well. I would've gone mental otherwise." I chuckle. Jeph rubs his hands together and adjusts his hardhat.

"Enough with the pleasantries," He says, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Can you hear us?" He yells. Danial and I wince at the loud sound as it bounces off the walls and floor and ceiling.

"Hello?" A muffled voice yells. I feel like crying in relief.

"Hello!" Jeph shouts, large grin on his lips.

"How many of you are there?" A different voice shouts back. It must be two rescue men.

"Three!"

"Are you alrigh'?"

"Yeah, but Mellark's 'ead is pretty messed up!" There's no answer for a while, but I can hear the people talking.

"What the fuck are they doin'? This isn't the time for a mother's meetin'!" Danial asks incredulously. But the people finally reply.

"We're gonna have to dig you out! Can you help?"

"Sure we can!" Danial laughs, stepping forward to remove a boulder, rolling it away. Jeph and I follow suit, eagerly shifting rocks until there's a small hole in the wall. I can see lights moving about.

_Freedom._

_I'm going to keep my promise to Katniss. I'm going to get out of here. _

_She's gonna kill me._

We make quick work of the rubble wall, pulling the rocks away one at a time, checking all the while that the roof doesn't fall in anymore. We make a gap small enough for us to get through, the process taking longer than it should because more rubbles keeps falling down, forcing us to jump out of the way. Danial climbs through first, followed by Jeph, and I'm close behind.

"You guys alright?" One of the rescue men asks, eyeing us carefully. I grin and nod. _I'm free. I'm an elevator lift ride from Katniss. _

"We are now. What happened?" Danial asks.

"The columns collapsed," One of the men says, heading for the elevator and cranking the door open. "Finally."

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"No, but its taken hours to get the last of them out. Another man was trapped over in Sector B."

"Who's up top? Anyone waiting?"

"Uh, Daisy and Sophy are waiting for you, Jeph. And your sister is up there as well, Danial," The man says, gesturing for us to get into the elevator. We comply quickly, piling into the elevator, sighing in relief when the elevator starts its steady –but noticeably slower- ascent upwards. I shuffle my feet, my head throbbing, and examine my hand. It's bruised and calloused and covered in dust. All three of us are covered in dust, like a second skin. "And there's a whole bunch waitin' for you, Mellark. All blonde, except for the Everdeen girl."

"Katniss..." I breath, my shoulders sagging. "Is she alright?"

"Crying her eyes out but looking determined."

"That sounds just like Katniss." I say. Jeph chuckles from the back of the cage. I squint against the bright white light of the outside as the elevator reaches the top of the shaft, juddering to a stop. The elevator master yanks the doors open and smiles widely at us, muttering something about good luck under his breath. We stagger forward, the rescue men in front. Danial practically shoves us aside and emerges into the light, laughing loudly and running towards an old woman who shouts his name and sobs loudly into his shoulder when he envelopes her into a hug.

Jeph is next, and is greeted by his fiancé, a slight woman with bright red hair like Darius', who shrieks joyfully. A small girl runs forward, Sophy, I assume, away from her mother and towards her father, screaming 'Daddy!' over and over again. My heart aches. As I step out of the shadows, I pull off my hat, shielding my eyes from the light of the setting sun. The slight breeze I feel against my face is like heaven as I walk forward, feeling the orange glow of the sunset warming my skin. I take a deep breath and look up, finding Mrs Everdeen, Prim, my parents and brothers standing in a group, and then, a few steps ahead of them is Katniss, staring at me as if she can't quite believe it. I know how she feels, I really do.

Her eyes are wide, kitten grey, and so beautiful. Her hair is in its signature braid over her shoulder. She looks terrified, angry, and amazed all at once. I watch as she whispers something –too quiet for me to hear- and smile.

"Peeta!" She cries out, running towards me as I run towards her. It's amazing, as if someone has pressed the 'slow motion' button on a remote, slowing our movements. I watch Danial hugging his sister, Jeph hooking Sophy on his hip, kissing Daisy as if she's oxygen.

"Katniss," I breath, her body colliding against mine, arms grabbing my close, pointy elbows and all. "You're here." I whisper into her ear. She sobs, her chest quaking against mine. I just laugh, squeezing my eyes shut and burying my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. I spin us around, feet stumbling over feet, laughing and crying at the same time.

"D-don't you _ever_ do that to us again, okay?" She gasps.

"I love you, so much." I reply, tears sliding down my cheeks. I open my eyes and see Dad standing a few meters away. He nods, his eyes sad, and pulls Mom close. Katniss pushes me away a little, standing on her tiptoes, her hands cradling my face as she gazes at me, tears overflowing. Her hands map my face, thumbs sliding over my cheekbones, over my forehead, over my jaw line. She takes a deep shuddering breath and presses wet kisses to my sooty skin, again and again, peppering my face, gasping out words in between kisses.

"Why did you do it? Why didn't you tell me? I almost lost you! I can't lose you, Peeta. I just can't. You're part of me. What the fuck were you thinking, you complete idiot?!" Her lips meet mine then, capturing them in a kiss that has a lifetime of emotion behind it. I feel hatred, confusion, fright, love, passion, longing, and desperation as her lips move against mine.

"I'm sorry." I offer, dumbfounded.

"Don't let me go."

"I won't."

"Promise me, this time."

"I've never going back," I say, kissing her forehead. "I promise. I love you, so much, okay?"

"Okay..." Katniss nods her head. She shoves me, hard, and batters her fists against my chest. "You idiot! Why would you do this? Especially after what happened to Dad! What is wrong with you?" She hisses, her eyes flashing. I just laugh, pulling her close.

"I'm crazy." I mumble. Katniss bursts into tears again.

"Fuck you."

"I'm not going anywhere." I pledge, enjoying the feeling of simply _holding _her in my arms.

"Go and hug everyone else." Katniss sniffs, moving away and pushing me forward. Dad pulls me into his arms and hugs me.

"You're an idiot, son. But I love you." He chuckles.

"I love you too." I say, before turning to Mom. She looks sour, as normal, but there's something in her eyes that tells me that she's relieved. She steps forward, hands curled into fists, and I pause, only to feel shocked when she hugs me. It's stiff, our arms unsure of where to go, but she pats my back and mumbles something into my ear.

"If you died, Peeta, you wouldn't have met you child. You're very lucky." She says.

"I know, Mom. Thank you." I reply. She pulls away, brushes her hand over my ragged shirt as if it will clear all the dust away. Fen and Rye pounce, laughing and slapping my back.

"Wow, you're a twat." Rye says.

"We told you not to go back."

"I know, I know." I chuckle wearily. Prim flings herself into my arms, babbling into my ear about how stupid I am and how worried Katniss was and that she's glad that I'm okay. I tell her that I'm glad to be here. Mrs Everdeen hugs me with a surprising amount of strength, considering how frail she is.

"My daughter has married a dumbass," She rolls her eyes. "I'm happy that you're here though, Peeta. You have no idea how lucky you are."

"I know. Thank you." I smile.

"I'll sew your head up in a minute." She says, patting me on the shoulder. I nod, move away, and gather Katniss into my arms, kissing her again. She can't seem to stop crying and laughing and yelling at me, all at the same time. But I couldn't be happier.

* * *

Mrs Everdeen ices my head, cleans it, and Prim sews it up with shaking fingers. Katniss grips my hand tightly the entire time, grimacing.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my eyes locked on her, trying to keep my head still as Prim prods about. Mom and Dad and Fen and Rye have gone home to get some food, and we're going to have dinner once my head is sorted out. Katniss nods, swallowing, and smiles at me.

"It's nothing. I'm just happy that you're still here." She says, kissing my bruised knuckles.

"Are you sure?" I ask. Katniss nods, rubbing her stomach. "Katniss?" I repeat, noting the way that her eyes widen and her cheeks pale.

"Mom?" She asks, looking up at her mother, before doubling over in her seat in pain.

"Hey, hey, Kat-" I say, trying to move forward. Prim yanks me back.

"Stay _still_!" She snaps. I flounder desperately, watching as Katniss stares at her stomach, clearly in pain and worried.

"What's wrong?" I ask, eyes wide. Mrs Everdeen rubs her daughter's shoulders and tells her to sit up straight, asking her a series of questions about what she can feel and if it's happened before.

"This morning." She grimaces. I frown. Something happened and she was all alone. I feel even worse, kicking myself for leaving her alone.

"It's just a contraction." Mrs Everdeen says calmly. Katniss' mouth drops open.

"_What?" _I exclaim. A contraction? They only happen when the baby is coming. "Is the baby coming?"

"No-"

"The what is it? She's only seven months! Is the baby coming?" I ask, glancing from Katniss to Mrs Everdeen.

"Peeta, calm down!" Katniss' mother orders. "Stop fretting and keep still so Prim can finish sewing! They're called Braxton Hicks. They're like test runs," She faces Katniss and smiles. "Your body is preparing for labour. Nothing to worry about."

"So it's okay?" Katniss asks. Mrs Everdeen nods. "I thought I was going to have the baby in our kitchen!" My wife exhales, slumping back in her seat.

"They're brought on by stress and lack of sleep."

"So this is perfectly normal?" Katniss asks, eyeing me. Prim pulls a bottle of salve out and applies it to my head.

"Yes, dear. It's when your water breaks that you should be worried."

* * *

Hours later, after eating a hearty meal at the bakery, hugging many teary people, getting yelled at by everyone, and lifting Katniss up so her legs wrap around my waist and kissing her until we're breathless, I tell Katniss that I just want to go home and be with her. She nods in understanding, squeezing my hand. We say our goodbyes and leave promptly, reaching our house in less than ten minutes. Katniss shoos me upstairs, telling me to have a shower, and heads into the kitchen, lighting a fire. The feeling of hot water washing away the sweat and grime from today is amazing, and I emerge from the shower feeling fresher that I have in a long time. Katniss comes into the bathroom and takes my clothes, dumping them in the fire and smiling as they burn.

"I really am sorry." I whisper, coming up behind her and resting my hands on her stomach. She leans into my chest and sighs.

"I know. But why did you go there in the first place. We would've been fine on our own."

"I was scared of not being able to provide for you." I say. Katniss snorts.

"And you thought that going into the _mines _was the right plan of action?"

"At the time, yes." I murmur. Katniss is silent for a long time, watching the fire.

"You could've worked at the butchers. Or at the market. Or simply asked for a raise at the bakery."

"I know... I just didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologising. I don't care," Katniss says. "But your brothers said that they tried to talk you out of it at our _wedding, _Peeta. _Our wedding! _Why did you go back?"

"The Capitol requests that you have to complete a full work piece, or they take the money. I didn't want a weeks worth of wages to go to waste."

"How come I didn't see you? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"No one knew at first. Mitch saw me in the middle of the night, and then I told my brothers. I was going to tell you today, I swear. I didn't exactly include directions of what to do when I got trapped in the mines," I clear my throat. "I went in the middle of the night."

"But that's the graveyard shift! Do you have any idea how _dangerous _that is?"

"I do now."

"You're so frustrating!" Katniss mutters.

"I know." I reply.

"You're a jerk."

"I know."

"And I hate you so much for doing this."

"I don't mind."

"But if you ever put yourself in danger like that again, I swear I'll shoot you. I thought you were dead, Peeta! I thought I was going to be a widow at seventeen! With a baby to raise!"

"That was never going to happen."

"It nearly did," Katniss snaps. "Just... just stay with me."

"Always." I promise, pressing a kiss to her neck. She sighs, turning to face me, and deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue over my bottom lip.

"Not tonight," She mumbles against my mouth when my hands sneak under her shirt. "Tonight, I just want to sleep beside my husband knowing that he's safe."

"I'm safe, Katniss. And so, so sorry."

"Come on." Katniss says softly, taking my hands and leading me upstairs.

"I didn't think. I was stupid. You can divorce me if you want. I'd understand completely."

"I'm never going to divorce you, dummy."

"Good," I say. We settle into bed, curled up, like puzzle pieces fitting together, and I bask in the feeling of having Katniss near me. "I was scared in the dark. I kept seeing you, and my Dad. And I was hearing things and feeling ghostly hands on my shoulders. I must have fallen asleep at one point, because I dreamt about you and the baby... but in an alternate universe where I died." Katniss stiffens in my arms.

"Was the baby a girl or a boy?"

"I don't know."

"It was a dream. It's okay."

"I love you."

"I love you more," Katniss says, kissing my chest. "Now, get some sleep. I'm going to be yelling at you all day tomorrow."

I close my eyes and smile, pressing my lips to Katniss' forehead. That's it. I'm out. I don't have to go back there. I'm alive. I'm loved. I'm safe. Everyone's okay.

Sleep pulls me under quickly.


	42. Chapter 42: Clues

**Thanks for the reviews, favourites, and follows :) Only a few chapters to go! In this chapter you'll start to see more of what is to come... ;) This story is not what it seems...**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

I wake in the middle of the night, frantic and breathless, caught up in the remnants of a nightmare in which I was trapped in the mines as well as Peeta, shaking, cold and terrified, the ghost of my father standing in the shadows.

"Peeta?" I whisper, sliding my hands over the mattress, finding an empty bed. It's still slightly warm. "Peeta?" I say, a little louder, throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed. Stepping out into the hallway, I spot the golden light spilling out from underneath the bathroom door. I knock on the door softly and hear the bathroom sink running.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice says quietly. I breathe a sigh of relief and push the door open. "I was just going to the toilet. Don't worry."

"I panicked," I say, coming up behind him and resting my head on the line of his spine, my hands creeping around to rest on his bare stomach, my fingers threading through the fine golden hairs that lead down below his belt line. "And I have a right to worry."

"I really am sorry," He whispers, drying his hands. "You don't understand... I was scared for you."

"I do understand, Peeta. I'm scared as well."

"I wasn't thinking straight."

"I know," I mumble. Peeta chuckles. "But you shouldn't have been worried. I can hunt and trade. You can work at the bakery. We'll be okay."

"Sorry." Peeta says after a long pause.

"Never leave me again." I murmur, pressing a kiss to his skin.

"I won't." He promises, turn and kissing my forehead.

* * *

I spend the next few days yelling at Peeta, and the different personality that's quickly overtaken me -causing me to become emotional and motherly and completely unlike my usual self, is pushed aside so that grouchy, scowling Katniss returns.

"I'm so fed up with _everything_!" I cry, throwing my hands up in the air. "I waddle everywhere and my feet hurt all the time and I can't go hunting or into the woods because my stomach is too fucking big to fit!"

"You've got under two months to go, Katniss." Peeta tries to reason with me.

"Two months!" I exclaim.

"And you don't waddle that much." He says with a smirk, passing me a clean dish to dry. I slam the plate down, turn on my heel and leave the room.

We spend the next our arguing.

I can't believe Peeta hasn't gotten sick of me yet- all I do is complain, shout at him, and eat his food.

* * *

The people who don't know about Peeta's work in the mines give him curious looks at school, eyeing the gash in his head. Apart from a few dizzy spells and headaches, he's recovered pretty well. School has been taking its toll, and when I get home I'm falling asleep on the sofa. More than once Peeta has had to carry me to bed.

I'm standing at the sidelines of the court painted on the floor of the hall, patched-up ball in hand, getting ready to throw it, when Effie Trinket enters the room, her bright clothing lighting up the room. Today the theme of her outfit seems to be fish- the skirt she wears shimmers like fish scales, and the headdress that sits nestled in her coiffed curls is shaped like a fish.

"Miss Trinket." Coach Marr greets, holding her hand up in my direction to stop the game from proceeding.

"Mr Abernathy and I need to talk to Miss Everdeen," Effie says, scanning the room to find me. "Hopefully that won't be much of a problem?"

"No, not at all." Coach Marr nods her head. I toss the ball to Madge and follow Effie, struggling to decide whether I'm glad to not have to do Gym, or annoyed because I have to be in the presence of two crazies like Effie and Haymitch.

"Haymitch is waiting in my office, go and sit down in there, and I'll go and get Mr Mellark." Effie says, pointing down the hallway. I nod and Effie twirls away, her heels clacking loudly down the corridor. Hesitantly, I make my way to the office, knock three times, and wait for Haymitch to answer.

"Why the hell are you knockin'?" His gruff reply sounds. I grit my teeth and push open the door. Haymitch is sitting in a large chair, his feet crossed, drinking from a glass, swirling the amber liquid around after every gulp.

"Mr Abernathy." I say with a scowl.

"Miss Everdeen... or should I call you Mrs Mellark, sweetheart."

"Katniss is fine."

"Sit," He says, motioning to one of the over-stuffed, Capitol-imported chairs that sit opposite Effie's. I sit down, glad to rest my feet. "Christ, sweetheart, you sure it's just the one kid?"

"No, I'm not sure." I mutter, resting my hands on my stomach.

"How long do you have?"

"I'm about seven and a half months."

"That boy has his work cut out," Haymitch chuckles. "You _and _a kid?"

"I'd say shut up if you weren't a teacher."

"Girl, you really think I care?"

"No."

"You're smarter than you look."

"How drunk are you?"

"And you've got about as much charm as a dead slug." I lock my jaw, biting back a response. Haymitch smirks. I don't look around when the door opens, but Peeta squeezes my hand before taking a seat on the seat beside me. Effie perches in her seat, reapplies her lipstick, and then speaks.

"As school councillors-" She begins. Haymitch snorts.

"I'm no councillor."

"_I_ am a councillor," Effie says, throwing Haymitch a glare. "Which means that I'm aware of certain goings on in the district," She leans forward, rapping her manicured nails on the mahogany desk. "In the sake of having our records correct, we need to have correct information."

"You want to know if we're married or not?" Peeta asks.

"Oh, no. We are aware of your marital status." Effie laughs airily. Haymitch rolls his eyes.

"We wanna know if you're gonna be able to take the exam at the end of the project." He says, eyeing my stomach.

"We have taken into account your condition, Katniss, and we want to make sure that you'll be able to take the exam. It's a very complicated affair with the Capitol is we want to change the date of the exam, or to let you do it on another day. We'll have to get an official to come in from the Capitol and-"

"I'm due a week _after _the exam," I say, cutting Effie off. "What's the problem?"

"Sweetheart, you don't think that monster is gonna crawl outta you on schedule, do you?" Haymitch asks, leaning back in the chair. It's about... Trinket... you know this stuff better than me." Effie scowls at being called _'Trinket'. _

"About four to five per cent of babies in District 12 are actually born on their due date. Many are born early or late," Effie says, smiling kindly between Peeta and I. I grimace. This is _not _what I want to be talking about with the Capitol nutcase and the district drunk. Sparing a glance at my husband, I note how he too looks fed up; slumped back in his seat, but his eyes are bright. He senses my eyes on him and faces me, taking my hand in his and grinning. Haymitch's eyes fix on our joined hands. "We're simply taking precautions. This is a _very_ important exam- I don't think I can stress this enough. The Baby Games is preparing adolescents for parenthood but in a fun and educational way, and if you don't do well, it makes your chances of having your child accepted and acknowledged by the Capitol much lower."

"No offense, but it's a bit late for the Capitol to... reject the baby." Peeta says, looking at me. Effie purses her lips.

"I'm aware of that, Mr Mellark, but this is important nevertheless," Effie says. "The Baby Games teach you valuable things that will help you in the future. But since you've decided to start a family at such a young age, it is much more valuable to you."

"Wait, Trinket-"

"Mr Abernathy, I believe that it is much more professional to call me Miss Trinket, not '_Trinket'_ or _'Trinky'_!" Effie interrupts.

"Sure, sure," Haymitch waves his hand dismissively. "How much about these two do you know?"

"What do you mean?" Effie asks, looking from Peeta, to me, to Haymitch, and back to Peeta again in confusion.

"Tell me what you know about the relationship between these two." Haymitch says, smirking. I look at Peeta. He shrugs his shoulders.

'_What is he talking about?' _I mouth to him.

'_I have no idea.' _Peeta mouths back, narrowing his eyes.

"You two have been friends for years!" Effie exclaims. "I was made to believe that you simply fell in love. I thought it was a little inappropriate for you to want children at such a young age, but you clearly love each other."

"It wasn't like that at all..." I say.

"What?" Effie squawks, flustered.

"Oh, boy," Haymitch guffaws, clapping his hands together. Shit. I think I know where this is going. "They got drunk and she-" He points an accusing finger at me. "-ended up pregnant." I sink back into the seat, my cheeks burning.

"Wait, how do _you _know this?" Peeta asks.

"My niece was at that party. And people in District 12 live for gossip. Even rumours get round to me eventually." Haymitch laughs.

"This changes everything!" Effie gasps. "How _irresponsible _of you! Especially you, Mellark. I've heard so much about you- always positive too- and then you do this?"

"It was an accident," I snap. "Don't yell at either of us, especially since it really isn't any of your business!"

"Katniss, calm down." Peeta interjects.

"Look, I'm going to go to the exam. It'll be fine. Can we go now?"

"You're a brave, brave man, Mellark." Haymitch sighs as I stand, fuming. I'm sick of people giving Peeta pitying looks, and disgusted looks being thrown at me. I know that the way in which the relationship between Peeta and I came around wasn't exactly conventional, but no one should be judging anyone, especially in a district like this. Many people -Merchants especially- are married after school finishes at seventeen, later one once they have a job. Many parents arrange marriages between their child and another in order to marry into a wealthier family. I reckon that Mrs Mellark wanted her sons to be married to a lovely blonde-haired, blue-eyed Merchant girl. I can imagine Peeta with Delly.

I bet Peeta's mother didn't think that her daughter-in-law would end up being me.

"Can we go now?" I repeat.

"I expect that you'll both get high scores at the end of this project?" Effie asks.

"You can rest assured that we will." Peeta says.

"You're free to go." Effie nods her head, ignoring how pissed off I am, and continuing to smile. I turn and leave the room, storming out into the corridor with Peeta on my heels.

"Katniss, hey. What's wrong?" He asks, grabbing my arm and pulling me to him.

"Nothing."

"Tell me the truth." He says with a teasing smile.

"Why the fuck are you smiling?" I ask. Peeta chuckles. "And, if you must know, I'm pissed off because everyone gives you pitying looks, and they all glare at me! I just want them to mind their own business for once and leave me alone."

"You normally ignore them, Kat. How has it changed now?"

"How has it changed? It's changed because we're getting called out of lessons now so that the Capitol freak and the district drunk can rattle on about stupid, useless tests that bear no significance to us at all!"

"Look, you're right about me being the district drunk, I'll give you that. But Effie isn't that much of a freak. She's definitely toned it down since being relocated here." Haymitch says, interrupting my rant. He walks close, his arms folded over his chest, and laughs.

"Sorry." I mutter.

"Mellark, I need to talk to you for a second." He says, motioning for Peeta to follow him. They walk a small way down the corridor, and I watch as they speak in hushed tones. Haymitch is looking more serious than I've ever seen, and Peeta looks shocked.

Peeta returns, looking freaked out, and I frown.

"What was that all about?" I ask, watching Haymitch amble away down the corridor.

"I can't talk about it here."

"Why not?"

"It's important... and dangerous," Peeta mutters. "I'll tell you when we get home."

"Are you alright?" I ask, noting how he seems to be a little shaken. He nods his head.

"Uh, yeah. I just heard about things in the mines... I never thought they were true." He says, smiling down at me.

"I'm sure it'll be okay," I grin, wrapping my arms around his neck, and peering at the clock on the wall behind him. "We've got a few minutes until the end of the lesson." I whisper into his ear, my lips brushing against his skin.

"Those gym shorts really suit you." Peeta replies before pressing his lips to mine. He pushes me back against the lockers, his arms snaking around my waist to lift me up. I grin against his mouth, and he deepens the kiss, his lips moving slowly against mine.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Later that day, after we've eaten dinner, I bring Katniss up into the bathroom, lock the door, and turn on the shower and sink to full power. Katniss stares at me in confusion.

"What are you doing?" She asks. "You're wasting water."

"There are microphones." I whisper.

"What?"

"Keep your voice down!" I hiss, stepping closer to her. "The Capitol. They've installed microphones into every house."

"_Why?" _She whispers, her eyes wide.

"I'll start from the beginning, okay? When I was in the mines, people were talking about the Capitol losing power. About the districts rebelling against the Capitol. People are fed up, Katniss. They want things to change."

"'Bout time." She snorts.

"Listen to me, please. This means war. This means an uprising."

"Against the Capitol?" Katniss asks, incredulous.

"Yes, against the Capitol. A five-year-old boy was shot in District 11 a few days ago for telling a Peacekeeper that the Capitol wasn't in control."

"They shot a five-year-old?" Katniss cries.

"Yes, and it's getting worse. People are fighting against everything," I take a deep breath, my heart pounding. This is too much information to process, and I'm still struggling to come to terms with what I'm being told. "When I was in the mines I was told that there are secret groups of rebels up and down the country that are working to bring the Capitol down."

"Is this what Haymitch was talking to you about?"

"Exactly. He knew that I was in the mines, long before anyone else did. He's part of a rebel group. So is Effie. He wants me to make sure that I'm prepared for anyone who might come knocking."

"Why would people come knocking?"

"You know how you haven't seen Gale for weeks? Or any of the Hawthornes?" Katniss nods worriedly. "They're in District 13."

"Bullshit. District 13 has been gone for years."

"That's what I thought. But Gale is there, Kat, I promise you. He's helping with the whole rebellion."

"Are they okay?"

"Yes."

"How long are they going to be gone?" Katniss asks, her eyes wide.

"I don't know." I confess, feeling helpless. All these rumours that have been circulating in my head have finally been proven. Up and down the country people have been disappearing without a trace. Haymitch warned me that it was manly young people with children, or large families.

'_I've been warning so many people,' _He had muttered. _'Telling them to keep it quiet, and to go without struggle if they're asked to leave the district.'_

"Are we in danger? What about Mom and Prim? And your parents? And Fen and Rye?" Katniss asks.

"I think we're okay. But Haymitch just wants us to be careful."

"I don't see why we're so important though," Katniss says, looking confused and shocked. "Why are we important, Peeta?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know?"

"I just _don't, _okay?" I snap. "Don't repeat any of this to anyone, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise." Katniss says. I pull her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I know this is confusing, and frightening. I feel the same way. But Haymitch says that something big is coming."

"Are we gonna be okay?"

"Yes." I say, wishing that I could tell myself the same thing with such ease.

My time in the mines has not only be terrifying, but... _informative..._At first I thought that talk of an uprising was just wishful thinking, but when I found Haymitch waiting for me outside the mines one night, I was thrown in headfirst to a secret that has been getting bigger and bigger these past few years.

It started over a decade ago, in District 7, when a girl's family was killed. It was all mysterious- the father was killed in an accident at the logging factory he worked out, though there hadn't been an accident there in over two years. The mother and children were found with bullets in their skulls in the garden of their home. The eldest was taken, and never seen again.

Around the same time, an escort from the Capitol was kidnapped from a train he was riding on as the vehicle passed through an empty zone in between District 4 and 10. The escort was found several months later, wandering through the wilds, outside of the district boundaries. After being taken back in to the Capitol, they were used to get messages to and from the districts.

More people disappeared, and then, around the time of the mine accident that killed Katniss' father, it just stopped. Everything went quiet. Life went on. It's been that way ever since, until last year when more people began to rebel.

I look at Katniss, who has sat on the toilet seat, her brow furrowed as she thinks. The world is ending, basically, and I know that she's still trying to sort her head out, just like me. I can't decide whether it would be a good thing or a bad thing if the districts rebelled. The loss of life would be unimaginable, and the Capitol has a large supply of weapons at hand. They would flatten us. And if they succeeded, everyone who as much _thought _about rebelling would be executed. That would make Katniss, myself, and our baby goners.

It's a terrifying prospect.

* * *

Four days later, early on Sunday morning, there's a knock on the door. I reluctantly climb out of bed and go downstairs, and it takes me a few tries to put the right key into the lock. It's way too early. I open the door and find two Peacekeepers standing there, in full uniform, with loaded guns over their shoulders and visors buzzing with the sound of other Peacekeepers talking to them. I suddenly feel very defenceless in a wrinkled blue shirt and pants. My heart drops, however, as the heaviness of sleep that rests on my mind begins to clear, and I wonder if we were heard talking about the rebellion that is bubbling beneath our feet.

"Peeta Mellark?" One of them asks.

"Uh... yes?"

"May we ask how many people are living in this house?"

"Myself and my girlfriend," I say, shifting my weight from one foot to another. "Why?"

"We need to come in and ask you some questions."

"Is it really necessary to do this so early in the morning?" I ask.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step aside." The Peacekeeper says, stepping forward and pushing past me. I follow close behind, and Katniss stumbles down the stairs. My eyes shoot down to her left hand. _Her wedding ring. _Take her hand and smile, begging her with my eyes to act casual as I slip the ring off into my palm and tuck it into the pocket of my sweats.

"What's going on?" She asks, scrutinizing the Peacekeepers that are walking into the kitchen. We follow and watch them opening cupboards and checking around the room.

"Sit down, please," The Peacekeeper says, gesturing to the kitchen table. Katniss and I pull out chairs and sit down. "We're going to ask you a series of questions, and we want you to answer them truthfully, okay? Any resistance will mean that you must come down to the Justice Building."

Katniss and I stay silent, and the other Peacekeeper begins to speak as his partner disappears into the house. I note how his gloved hand rests on his gun. "What are your names?"

"I'm Peeta Mellark," I say. Katniss opens her mouth to answer. "And this is my girlfriend, Katniss Everdeen." I say quickly. Katniss shoots me a look. I smile quickly at her.

"Ages?"

"Seventeen."

"Sixteen."

"Do you know Gale Hawthorne?" The Peacekeeper asks, this time directing his question to Katniss. She stiffens.

"Yes."

"How do you know him?"

"I'm his best friend. We grew up together." Katniss says stiffly.

"How about his family? Can you tell me about them, please?"

"Why?" Katniss asks.

"Just answer the question."

"I want to know why you've woken us up so early and begun interrogating us!" Katniss snaps. "Tell us what's going on."

"That's classified information." Katniss sits stubbornly for thirty seconds, refusing to say anything.

"Kat, come on." I say.

"Listen to your boyfriend." The Peacekeeper says. Katniss locks her jaw.

"Kat-"

"I know that he has two brothers, a sister, and his mother. His father is dead." Katniss blurts out. I take her hand and squeeze it. I know that she feels like a traitor for saying this, but it isn't like the Capitol doesn't know. They have extensive records of everyone in Panem.

"And have you spoken to them recently?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I had an argument with Gale." She mutters.

"What was this argument about?" The Peacekeeper asks. Katniss scowls at him, rubbing her arms, goose bumps prickling her skin. I stand, reaching for the shawl that sits on the side cabinet, and hear the clicking sound of a gun clicking away from safety mode.

"Sit _down, _sir." The Peacekeeper says, his voice cold and menacing.

"Get that gun away from him." Katniss hisses.

"Sit down, sir." The Peacekeeper repeats. I turn, shawl in hand, and pass it to Katniss before returning to my seat. The Peacekeeper clicks the gun back into safety mode as his companion enters the room.

"All clear." He mutters. I can see our reflections in their visors.

"What was the argument about?"

"About my relationship with Peeta," Katniss says shortly. "Is that it?"

"Not quite. I want to know how much you know about where they have gone."

"I know nothing. I went to visit them a few weeks ago and their house was empty." Katniss says, the lie coming out smoothly and without a hitch.

"You didn't have any indication of where they went or when?"

"No."

"Surely they would've told you, Miss Everdeen, especially considering that you are a family friend."

"I don't know where they are, when they disappeared or why they disappeared. All I know is that I want them to be found." Katniss bites her lip. I squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"How about you, Mr Mellark?"

"I'm as clueless as Katniss," I say. "I don't know where the Hawthornes have gone."

"Are you sure?"

"Very." I say, smiling in what I would call a sweet manner, though it probably looks sarcastic.

"Is that all?" Katniss asks, her free hand resting on her stomach. She grits her teeth.

"Yes, thank you."

"Please- notify us when you get any information on the Hawthornes." I add.

"Thank you for your time," The other Peacekeeper says, nudging his colleague. "We'll show ourselves out." I nod my thanks, and we wait with bated breath until we hear the sound of the front door slamming shut.

"Oh my God." Katniss whispers. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.

"Are you okay?" I ask her, slumped back in my seat.

"Fuck, I think so. I think I had another contraction though. It really hurt." She replies, and I sit up again.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was a little tense." Katniss smirks. I smile and stand, pulling her to her feet.

"So now Peacekeepers are being used to find out information," I say. "That makes it so much more scary."

"And so much more real." Katniss says, resting her forehead on my chest. I place my chin on the top of her head and rub her back.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Katniss grins. I shake my head and laugh, and we can feel the tension leaving the room, but the threat of the uprising around us is roaring- an inferno that threatens to swallow us up.


	43. Chapter 43: Warnings

**Yet again, thanks for the reviews! :) Some of you seemed to get confused by the last chapter, so here's an explanation: Peeta lied about Katniss being his wife because you have to be seventeen in District 12 to get married (both parties) and Mr Mellark bribed the magistrate who married the pair to not file the documents until Katniss was seventeen in May. That's why he lied to the Peacekeepers. I hope that clears it up for those who were confused :D**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Eight months swings round before I can get a grasp on what's happening. In exactly a month, the baby will be gone from my body. I'll be holding a squirming infant in my arms. It'll all be very surreal, and I don't believe that I'll be able to come to terms with everything for a long time. I'm sure Peeta will take to being a father with ease. It fills me with hope to think that our baby will have at least one parent capable of looking after him or her properly.

After the Peacekeepers interrogated us, I laid down in bed, staring at the wall, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Everything is coming together at the same time as it's crumbling beneath my feet. Simply the thought of having the Capitol brought down makes me dizzy and delirious, but it also sends a shiver down my spine that gives me hope. But at what cost? A rebellion? An uprising? It would send Panem into chaos, the number of lives lost would be too large to comprehend, and it would take decades for the system to recover. After such a disaster, would living in a country free from President Snow's oppressive rule be worth it?

I'm just a girl from the Seam. I can't make these decisions.

My mind drifts toward the Hawthornes. They're in _District 13, _the district we were told was forever gone, wiped from the surface of the planet. I can't believe that after all this time they've been hiding underground. That the Capitol was stupid enough to think that they wouldn't be working to bring the system down from the inside as they hid beneath the surface. How many people are there? It's mindboggling. I'll have to go to the Hawthorne's house and see what it's like there. I wish I could have known that they were going, so that I could've said goodbye or at least known about what was happening. I wonder if I would've gone with them, taking my family and Peeta's family with me, disappearing to somewhere that seems so much safer than this district.

I wonder if Peeta would've left with me.

My husband brings me up cheese buns and a chocolate cookie for breakfast, insisting that I need to eat because breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I sit in bed; my back propped up on the pillows, and eat in silence, mulling things over in my head. How many people know about this? Have I been walking around in the midst of a resistance that has been bubbling around me, completely unaware?

I climb out bed a few hours later, having read some more of a book that Madge recommended me, making sure to keep the spine as crease-free as possible. It's a silly romance, set hundreds of years ago, where a boy and a girl fall in love despite being arch-enemies. I've just reached the part where the girl's nurse is helping her organize a secret wedding to her lover, despite only being about fourteen years old, when I smell the strong tang of fresh paint. The book hits my knees and I sniff the air. Peeta must be painting something. I climb out of bed, book in hand, and creep down the hallway, following my nose.

"Fuck." Peeta breathes, stepping back from the wall farthest away from the door of the room reserved as the baby's nursery, paintbrush in hand.

"What are you doing?" I ask him, stepping towards the window and pushing it open to let the cleaner air circulate, trying to wash out the smell of paint.

"We've got under a month until the baby comes, and I want everything to be perfect for him or her. I thought that starting with a painted bedroom would be a good idea," Peeta says, turning to face me. He has a streak of sunshine yellow paint on his cheek. "But every time I try to get the colour right, it turns out a little too light or dark."

"It doesn't have to be perfect." I shrug my shoulders.

"I know," Peeta sighs, looking back at the wall, which is covered in varying shades of yellow and green and blue. "But I want it to be."

"What are you painting?"

"I thought I could paint flowers... something nature-y. I know you like nature."

"And you like baking. So why don't you draw a giant cake?" I raise an eyebrow. Peeta gives me a look and laughs.

"I'm being serious, Kat."

"So am I." I reply, hugging the book to my chest.

"Whatcha reading?" He asks, stepping forward. I hold the book out.

"Romeo and Juliet? Never heard of it."

"Madge lent it to me... said it was her favourite romantic tragedy," I explain, turning the book over in my hands, admiring the fine detailing of the cover. "In my opinion, it's a bit... _fluffy._"

"Fluffy?"

"You know, there isn't much plot to it. It's just focussing on how in love these two kids are. I think it's a good story, but a bit too romantic for me."

"How can anything be 'too romantic'?" Peeta asks.

"Of course _you'd_ say that," I roll my eyes. "You're a big softy."

"Romance is beautiful. That's what I think anyway."

"A little bit of romance is fine, but if the characters are falling over each over, forgetting themselves, willing to –oh, I don't know- die for each other or something, it's a bit weird. I mean, this Juliet girl. She's fourteen and Romeo is eighteen or something," I flip through the book idly, skimming through the pages I've already read. "Not only is the age gap a little weird, the whole situation was going to undoubtedly go downhill from the moment they saw each other. I don't understand why they can't see that it's going to end badly."

"Katniss, I think that's the point of the book," Peeta chuckles. "These two characters, Romeo and..."

"Juliet." I interject.

"Romeo and Juliet are in love. From the cynical review you've given me, it's clear that they love each other so much, that the real world pales in comparison to what they feel for each other. _That's_ romance."

"_That's_ stupidity."

"But don't you think it's lovely? In an ironic way, almost, but they love each other that they'd jump in front of a bullet for each other."

"Stupidity..." I say in a sing-song voice.

"Maybe, but wouldn't you do the same for me?"

"But it would kill me _and _the baby," I say. "Don't be selfish, Peeta."

"Well, I'd take a bullet for you, any day." He grins, stepping forward, closer to me, and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. I close my eyes, stretching forward for a kiss, and he drags his paintbrush down the side of my face instead. I gasp, my eyes snapping open, and watch as he moves the brush over my skin leisurely, a serene smile on his lips.

"You're an idiot."

"A romantic idiot."

"We're going to the meadow for lunch," I say, glancing over at the window, feeling the paint on my face crinkling as my skin moves. "Get your shit together." I take his brush and paint a moustache over his upper lip, curling the ends, and nodding my head. The yellow definitely suits him. He just stands there and smirks. "We leave in fifteen minutes."

* * *

**-Peeta-**

Of course, Katniss take almost half an hour to get ready, messing around with her clothes, throwing a fit when her beloved pants finally refuse to button up. (To be honest, I'm shocked that she's managed to keep them on this entire time).

"Stop _laughing!_" She hisses, her arms folded over her chest. She's standing at the top of the stairs, wearing panties and a t-shirt, her hair in loose waves over her shoulders. I'm having a hard time looking at her without gazing at the endless expanse of her toned legs. "Peeta! What am I going to wear? I can't wear pants. I'm not wearing any of your clothes- I look ridiculous!"

"A dress?" I suggest, my brow creasing in amusement. "You don't normally wear dresses."

"I've only got the blue one and a pale green one."

"Wear the green one. I haven't seen you in that one."

"I'll try, but I don't know if _that _will fit," She says, sighing dramatically and turning away. I shake my head and go into the kitchen, looking through the basket of food I threw together for what feels like the hundredth time. I can hear cursing and banging from upstairs, and almost don't notice the absence of sound when it stops. Closing the lid of the wicker basket, I bring it to the front door before climbing the stairs. Katniss is standing in our bedroom, trying to reach round for the buttons that lie up the back of her dress, squirming and swearing under her breath when she discovers that they're just out of reach. "Jesus fucking Christ," She mutters, giving up on the dress and turning around. "Peeta!" She yells, her voice faltering at the end when she sees me.

"Do you want some help?" I ask, fighting and failing to keep the smile from my face. She scowls and turns, eyeing me in the mirror.

"You were just standing there watching me struggle, weren't you?" She asks. I chuckle and gather her hair in one tail over her shoulder, my fingers threading through the dark locks.

"Not for long," I say. "I'm surprised you didn't hear me coming." Katniss says nothing and simply shrugs her shoulders. I button the bottom button of her dress, which sits in the small of her back, against her spine. I watch her dark skin prickle with goose bumps as my fingers graze her back and when I reach the top button I press a kiss to the back of her neck. She catches my eye in the mirror and smirks.

"Let's get going." She murmurs.

* * *

It's March, and the last of the icy cold is gone with the snow –heading North- and refreshing, cool spring breezes waft through the district. The forest in coming back to life, the baby leaves sprouting practically see-through in the golden sunlight and the sky is endlessly blue. The clouds that skid across the sky are large and looming, but rain is not in sight. Katniss insists on wearing her boots, and grips the bottom of her dress tightly in case of a rogue breeze.

The meadow is in full bloom. Dandelions and daffodils and various other flowers that I can't name but Katniss most likely can are dotted among the grass. Katniss leads the way confidently, and chooses a spot as far away from the Seam as you can reach, without going outside the fence. I lay a blanket down and we sit down. Katniss pulls out the food as swiftly as possible, her stomach rumbling loudly, and has devoured half and sandwich in about a minute. The fence begins to buzz halfway through our meal, and I lean back on my hands, Katniss' head in my lap, and observe the rattling, chain link fence. The other side of the fence looks harmless. In fact, it looks exactly like the meadow on our side of the fence.

"I thought they never turned it on." I say, looking down at Katniss.

"It normally isn't. But sometimes they do turn it on."

"Have you ever gotten stuck on the outside?"

"All the time." She shrugs, closing her eyes and sighing.

"What is it like?" I ask curiously. "Being stuck outside. Do you ever think of just walking and not turning back?"

"It's like home to me. The forest saved my family. Being on the outside it like being on the inside- but it feels calmer. Safer, really, because outside you are your own person, with your own rules. Outside the Capitol doesn't rule over you."

"Must be nice."

"It is." She smiles, opening her eyes again. I'm instantly mesmerised by the grey spheres, and notice how the gold and blue flecks flash in the sunlight.

"I like it here. It's peaceful." I say, lying back on the blanket, the grass crunching beneath me. Katniss shifts so that her head is resting on my stomach.

"It's useful too. You can eat so many things here. And make paints."

"Paints? Really?" I ask.

"Yeah. Dad... he used to make them for Prim and I when we were little. Used to let us paint on the side of Lady's pen," Katniss chuckles at the memory. "We can collect some flowers and roots if you want. Maybe it'll make the perfect yellow that you're _so_ intent on looking for." I shove her shoulder and she snorts, before falling into silence.

"I should paint the meadow." I say suddenly.

"What?"

"I'll paint the meadow. In the baby's room," I explain, sitting upright. "With dandelions and daffodils and primroses and katniss flowers."

"That'll be nice. Will you be able to paint it in time?"

"Are you underestimating me and my painting skills?" I ask. Katniss rolls her eyes.

"Go find dandelions. They make a nice yellow colour." She orders, stretching her limbs.

"Aren't you helping?" I ask, standing up.

"Nope," Katniss shakes her head and yawns. "I'm staying right here and having a nap. Unless you need help with deciding what a dandelion looks like, Bread Boy." She shields her eyes from the sun with her hand and peers up at me. I raise an eyebrow. She gives me a smug grin, knowing that she's won. I pull my jacket off and chuck it at her, before turning away and searching through the meadow.

And that's how we spend our afternoon. Katniss dozes off, her nose pressed into the material of my jacket, and I wander around the meadow, plucking dandelions from the ground, collecting enough for what I think will provide me with a good amount of paint. Several times I catch myself just standing there, dandelions in hand, staring at the fence, watching the trees shifting and swaying. Some of the vegetation towers high into the sky, the green contrasting sharply with the blue sky, while others barely peek out from the grass, brightly coloured flowers blooming. I see a squirrel darting up a tree- a flash of red in the swamp of green and brown- and I find it strange to see a live squirrel. The only squirrels I'd seen previously were the ones in school textbooks and the dead ones that Katniss shot. The little creature is adorable. I find it difficult to understand why Katniss would willingly shoot the animal, though I can see how it being a free source of food would entice you.

Katniss eats an apple as we walk home, and when we get home she lays out all the dandelions on the window sill as I make dinner. She ransacks the pantry and cupboards, making a list of all the things we need to make paints that we haven't got. She babbles constantly all the way through dinner, talking about the Hob, Prim, her mother, her father, what she thinks of the grocer's eldest son, her favourite tire swing in the Seam.

"It's just a mangy old tire tied to an oak tree with some rope, but it's loads of fun. Dad made a rope swing out by this beautiful lake in the forest. It didn't have a tire, but it was fun to swing into the lake from. I wonder if it's still intact. I haven't been to the lake in so long." I wash the dishes and she dries them –a routine we quickly established- and even then she continues to chat. I nod along, agreeing and disagreeing when the moment is right, but I don't try to add my opinions. It's nice to see Katniss talking so freely. Usually she's very closed off, but today she hasn't stopped talking. Most people would see it as annoying, but I think it's intriguing. It helps me learn more about my wife as an individual.

But, hours later, when she finally drifts of to sleep, I find myself staring up at the ceiling of our bedroom and basking in the silence.

* * *

The following morning we both wake early. After breakfast we head down to the Seam to the Everdeen household to borrow some tarps.

"Why'd you need them?" Mrs Everdeen asks as Katniss hands me the tarps from a chest of drawers in their kitchen.

"We're painting the baby's room." Katniss says.

"Do you mean _Peeta's _painting the baby's room?" Prim pipes up, picking up Buttercup from the floor and grinning at her older sister.

"Oh, ha-ha Prim." She scowls.

"But she's right." I whisper, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Prim grins. Katniss shoves me. Mrs Everdeen hides a smile behind her hand.

"Make sure you keep all the windows open. You don't want to inhale the paint fumes," Katniss' mother advises. "And invite us over when you've finished painting it."

"We will," I nod my head. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Mrs Everdeen smiles. Prim hugs me before I leave, and Mrs Everdeen gives us a jar of dark, blood-red paint that she had sitting at the back of a cupboard. I carry the tarps and follow Katniss down the road. She veers off left, heading downhill.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"I want to see the Hawthorne house. See what state it's in," She says determinedly, her jaw set. "I have to."

"Are you sure?" I ask. Katniss pauses for a second, staring off down the heavily wooded road before finally nodding. Everything is eerily silent as we walk down the empty street. Despite the nice weather, there are no children playing in the road. Loaded washing lines creak in the breeze, and the birds tweet in the leafy canopy above our heads, but it's very quiet. "Does this seem weird to you?" I ask, shattering the silence.

"It's always been quiet along this street –it's mainly older people living here- but yeah, this is a little odd." Katniss agrees, looking about the streets in concern. I find myself continuously looking behind me, the hair on the back of my neck prickling, and as we get closer to the Hawthorne house, I begin to feel more and more uncomfortable with the situation.

"Kat... I don't like this. It's too quiet." I whisper.

"I just wanna look. We'll be ten minutes at the most." Katniss reassures me, flashing me a smile. She stops in front of the Hawthorne house. It's a small building, in slightly better condition that many of the other houses in the Seam, with painted shutters and a tidy garden, but it's obvious that young children live –or _lived- _here. A few toys lay in the grass outside the house, and the lopsided front gate swings freely in the wind. Katniss steps forward, her boots crunching on the ground as she advances towards the house. The porch steps groan under our weight.

"The door is open." I say softly.

"Someone probably broke in," Katniss dismisses the thought. "It's not uncommon to take from unoccupied houses." I take a deep breath and follow her through the doorway. The room we enter is cluttered. All of the walls have furniture or boxes pushed u against them. The curtains drawn over the windows are faded and patchy. I put the tarps down on the couch, and Katniss disappears further into the house, into the kitchen. I go down the hallway and enter one of the bedrooms. The bed is unmade, but all the cupboards are empty. They cleared away their clothes before leaving. There aren't any photographs anywhere. They took all their most meaningful possessions.

"Katniss?" I call.

"What is it?" Katniss calls back, and I hear her footsteps getting louder.

"This doesn't feel right. I feel like I'm trespassing."

"You are trespassing."

"I'm being serious," I mutter. Katniss squeezes my arm. "I don't like this." I follow her back out into the hallway, and she darts in and out of the other rooms.

"They left quickly, but still had enough time to collect what they really needed," Katniss observes, biting her lip. "But they left Daisy."

"Who's Daisy?"

"Posy's doll. Gale saved up for ages to buy it for her birthday," Katniss says, holding out a small doll with a painted wooden face and a bright pink, flowery dress. Her hair is dark, and tied back in two braids. "I can't believe they didn't bring this. Posy loved this thing."

"Take it home. When you see them again you can give it to her." I say. Katniss nods and carefully puts the doll in her bag.

"You said it as if they were dead or something. As if something horrible has happened to them." Katniss muses, her eyes vacant as she stares around the house.

"I'm sure they're okay." I murmur.

"I know. But I wish I knew that they were going." Katniss sighs, adjusting her skirt and drifting away. I stand there, rooted to the spot, and stare at the dusty ground. Finally I move, and I go into the kitchen. It's simple, but the floor is tiled with black and white diamonds that make it look like a giant chessboard. In the doorframe there are little marks in the wood, I assume from where they've measured the heights of various Hawthorne children. There's a hole in the hall by the backdoor. I question how it got there, zoning out momentarily, before there's a loud crash.

"Katniss?" I call. No answer. I hurry to find her, and find a large wardrobe leaning against the wall, with a red liquid dribbling out from beneath it. Instantly my stomach drops. My blood runs cold. Is that blood? Did Katniss get crushed by the falling piece of furniture? "Katniss?" I call again.

"Get this off me." Katniss' annoyed reply rings out from below the wardrobe. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" I ask, stepping forward to move the wardrobe.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright." Katniss says. I lift the wardrobe back to where it came from, and find Katniss sitting on the floor in a heap, with red liquid all over her hands and soaking the bottom of her dress.

"No, no you aren't!" I cry out, dropping down to my knees. She looks down at her dress and whistles long and low. "Oh, God! It's gonna be alright. Does it hurt?" I ask, my pulse racing. Katniss coughs, clutches at her stomach, the red liquid squelching horribly between her fingers, and slumps back against the wall. "No, Kat, no! It's okay. J-just... don't worry; you're going to be okay."

"P...Peeta." She chokes. I shuffle closer and just stare at her.

"I'll go and get your Mom." I exclaim, jumping to my feet. Katniss is hurt. The baby is in danger. I can't lose either of them.

"No... don't..." Katniss says, reaching out for me. "It isn't blood."

"What?" I ask, staring down at her in horror. She burst out laughing, clutching at her chest and snorting.

"It's paint, you moron! The jar smashed!" She cackles loudly, smacking her hands on her thighs as she laughs. I suddenly feel faint. "You should've known! You're the painter!"

"You- you ass!" I snap, conflicted between crying and laughing and being angry with her for making me so terrified.

"Your face... Oh, help me!" Katniss chokes out between peals of laughter.

"I thought you were gonna die or something!" I say, sitting back on my heels and tugging on my hair. My hands are shaking.

"I'm sorry, I really am but that was... just you wait until I tell your brothers!" Katniss says. I laugh slightly, still shaken. Katniss 'awws' and crawls towards me to kiss my forehead, pressing her hands to the side of my face, covering my hair and skin in red paint.

"You really scared me, Katniss. I thought I was gonna loose both of you," I say, though I'm smiling at her. "Never do that again."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Katniss says sincerely, still grinning manically, but forcing me to look directly at her. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" I ask, placing my hands on her waist.

"Yeah. The wardrobe fell on the wall so it didn't crush me."

"Thank God."

"Exactly," She grins, pressing a kiss to my lips. "Now, get up." She stands and pulls me upright, being sure to wipe more red paint over my face.

"I've had way too much paint on my face lately." I grin, hugging her tightly against my chest. She laughs in my ear.

"Shit." She mumbles, stepping away and looking down at me. I look down to find red paint covering my clothes from where her sodden dress touched me.

"Thanks a lot." I snap playfully. She laughs even more. I go to close the cupboard doors, and my finger catches on the edge of a piece of paper. I open the door again and find a folded piece of paper tucked under a mirror on the inside of the cupboard door.

"What is that?" Katniss asks.

"I think it's a message." I say, smoothing the paper out. Katniss peers over my shoulder to read it out loud.

'_Catnip. I hope you find this. Well done if you did. I wanted to tell you that we were leaving. At first I thought the people were normal Peacekeepers. I thought they had found out about the hunting. But they were soldiers from 13. I had five minutes to get everyone's stuff together and write this. We're all safe. It's gonna be okay. I don't know how long we'll be gone. But I'll see you soon. If I miss your kid being born, I'll be pissed off. Tell Mellark he's alright. _

_I'm sorry for yelling and fighting with you. I'm an ass. _

_Burn this after reading._

_Gale'_

Katniss is quiet for a long time, rubbing her fingers over the paper.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yes. I know they're safe."

"You're going to burn it, aren't you?"

"No." Katniss says, folding up the paper and putting it into her pocket.

"But he said-"

"Gale can't tell me what to do, especially via note." Katniss smiles slightly.

"You want to go home now?"

"Yes," She nods. I take her hand. We walk out of the house in silence, and she shuts the door securely behind her, and latches the front gate closed as well. "People are going to think we were in some horrific accident." She laughs, gesturing down to our sodden clothes and red hair.

"They should know that it's actually paint." I retort, bumping my shoulder against hers as we move away from the house.

"They left three weeks ago." A gruff voice tells us. We turn and find an old man sitting in an even older rocking chair, picking at some bones, feeding the leftovers to a stocky white dog beside him.

"The Hawthornes?" Katniss asks.

"Yes. In the middle of the night. The little one crying about some dolly woke me and Jenkins up." He says.

"Oh, thank you." Katniss nods her head.

"Not long now," The man says, looking down at his dog and scratching behind its ears. "And then the shit hits the fan and the whole world flies into chaos."


	44. Chapter 44: Closer

**Two chapters (after this one) left! Oh, God, I'm getting teary ;) Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

All the teachers at school have begun to get more stressed as we've got closer and closer to the exam date.

'_You must revise!'_

'_You cannot afford to slack off at a time like this!'_

'_This exam is of upmost importance!'_

'_You must pay attention, Miss Everdeen! Stop falling asleep in class!'_

But I can't help it.

Lately I can't sleep. I find myself lying there in the early hours of the mornings, staring up at the ceiling, my eyes swimming in and out of focus as Peeta snores softly beside me. I run my fingers through his hair repeatedly, my fingers knotting in the loose golden curls. The motion helps me think. His gentle snores help me to organise my mind.

All I can think about is an uprising. Haymitch said that soldiers from District 13 are coming for families- people with children or the capacity to _have _children. That makes it sound like they're preparing for a loss of life on a massive scale. I wonder about how many other families from all over Panem have been snatched in the middle of the night. I wonder how it has gone so unnoticed by the Capitol.

Peeta and I must be important in some way, and not just because we're having a child. I try rack my brain. I try to think of why Peeta and I are important. Why are we so special? If we're taken, will I be able to bring Mom and Prim with me?

Another part of me wonders what District 13 is really like. The Capitol bombed it to the ground –we've seen enough of that from the national broadcasts to know that the leftover land is a smoking, rubble mess. But what is below the scarred land? How many people live beneath the surface?

"Miss Everdeen! Do you know the answer?" The teacher snaps me out of my thoughts and I look up, my cheeks reddening when I realise that the entire class is waiting for an answer, and I've just been sitting here staring off into space.

"I- I'm sorry?" I ask, looking down at my notebook as if it would hold the answer that I don't possess.

"Have you been paying any attention?"

"I..."

"We're continuing on the subject of the wrongs of war," The teacher frowns, tapping his fingers against the desk. "I asked for you to recite the third law on the holdings of illegal arms."

_Oh. Right. _

_Of course I know _this _law. My father made me recite the laws of Panem before entrusting me with a bow and set of arrows. I go against this law almost every day._

"The third law states that all and any forms of weaponry that are not owned under a license will be confiscated and the owner of the weapon will be fined and/or imprisoned or, depending on the circumstances of the weapon in mention, the accused will be executed for treason." I say in a flat tone. The teacher scowls.

"Pay attention in future, Miss Everdeen." He snaps.

Obviously, I slip back into the daydream state I've been occupying for so many lessons lately. It's not that I don't want to learn what I need to learn to pass the exam at the end of the Games. It's just that I can't concentrate. Peeta is now doing the finishing touches on the baby's bedroom. It's beautiful. It's as if the meadow has been brought to life in our home. The sky is a perfect clear blue, with fluffy white clouds on the horizon. The mountains are dappled with greens, purples and greys, and the endless expanse of trees are individually painted. The closer you get, the more detailed it becomes. Every leaf is perfect. Every blade of grass is bent at just the right angle to show it being pushed by an invisible breeze. Among the selection of wildflowers are pointed him to in the plant book, there are dandelions. Bright yellow bursts of colour among the green and brown. The dandelions Peeta picked in the meadow made the perfect yellow paint for Peeta to use, and the leftover flowers were made into tea.

We lean against the wall when he finally finishes, wrinkling our noses at the sharp smell of fresh paint, admiring the artwork around us. Peeta takes my hand and squeezes it, flashing me a smile.

"It's really amazing," I say, looking back at the wall. "I love it."

"Thanks," Peeta replies. "But if you hadn't have told me about the dandelions being made into paint, I never could've painted it how I wanted."

"No, no. This is all you. Accept my appreciation." I grin.

"If you insist." Peeta grins, tilting my chin upwards and pressing his lips to mine. It's soft and sweet, and when he pulls away he rests his forehead against mine, our noses touching, and smiles.

"I love you." I say. It's still difficult for me to say that so freely to people other than Prim or my mother. Those three little words make my heart ache. Something pangs in my chest. But the way Peeta's eyes light up and how his lips turn upwards into a small smirk when I say it is enough to reassure me that everything is okay.

"I love you too," He murmurs, kissing me again. "So much."

* * *

Some days are better than others. I can wake up some mornings and feel like I can do anything. That I'll be able to climb the tallest mountain and confront anyone. It's these days that I love. I'll get up and have a smile plastered on my face for the entire time, and find myself humming as I walk along.

On other days I feel like I can't physically get out of bed. Peeta has to convince me that going to school or simply getting out of bed and doing something is going to be better for me than lying on my butt, wallowing and moaning about how I want to be able to lie on my front or on my sides comfortably. Peeta is strong every single day. He's reliable. I know that if I'm having a bad day, he'll be there to cheer me up and tell me that everything is okay, that it's pointless for me to be feeling this way, that I should help him do something or go for a walk or do go and do anything that will be useful.

I get frightened just thinking about how time is running out. I know I'm not prepared. And as much as Peeta organizes and plans, I know that he isn't truly ready either. We're going to have to look after a _baby. _Another human being who cannot fend for themselves. We're going to have to be on guard 24/7, making sure he or she is warm, comfortable, fed, clean, safe, and happy. Peeta doesn't know how grateful I am for his presence. If I had to face this by myself, raise a child as a single mother barely out of school without a steady income, or means to make sure that I eat every day.

Peeta has given me all of that and more. I know that even if we aren't fully _prepared _to look after a child, we'll be able to look after each other and support each other through the whole process.

I go to visit Mom and Prim three weeks before my due date, leaving a note of my whereabouts for Peeta to find. Hobbling down the street at a snail's pace is not something I enjoy, and it feels especially patronising when I see elderly people practically jogging past me with smirks on their faces, smug that they've become faster than nimble Katniss Everdeen. I get out of breath just walking up the hill that leads deeper into the Seam. My feet ache. My back throbs erratically. I get tired quickly, which explains why I fall asleep in class all the time.

"You look exhausted." Prim exclaims the second she opens the door.

"Thank you, Prim." I say sarcastically. My sister grins and pulls me into the kitchen, sitting me down and pouring me a cup of tea. We chat for a good half an hour and I have to simply shrug my shoulders when asked if I know where the Hawthornes have disappeared to.

"Rory got his friend to tell me that they were okay. That they were going somewhere safe." Prim says with a sad smile. I look down at my cup of tea, swirling the pale liquid around before downing it all in one go.

"Peeta and I went to their house a few days ago. Uh, Gale had left a message. Telling us that they were alright." I add.

"I'm sure they're fine, girls. But I am suspicious of how they simply vanished."

I nod in agreement, though my head feels like it's filled with cotton wool. I yawn again; feeling very tired all of a sudden.

"My dear, you should be getting as much sleep as possible," Mom advises, smoothing down my hair. "When the baby arrive you've have barely any time to rest."

"I'll probably learn to sleep on the go." I chuckle, rubbing my eyes and fighting a yawn.

"Do you not get much sleep?" Prim asks, putting her feet up on a chair.

"I try. But I've had... a lot on my mind... at the moment." I mumble, images of an uprising bubbling in my head. I desperately want to talk to Mom and Prim about it. To ask them about what they know. Ask them about _if _the know anything.

"Take a nap on the couch," My mother says, gesturing for me to get up and go into the living room. With a heavy sigh, I oblige, following Mom into the living room and flopping down onto the couch. "It'll be good for you to get some sleep, trust me." She says, pulling a heavy blanket from the back of her arm chair. I prop the pillows up against the arm of the sofa and lie down. Mom drapes the blanket over my shoulders, smoothes my hair from my face and turns to leave the room.

"Wake me in an hour or two." I call out.

"I will, Katniss. Don't worry." Mom smiles, pulling the door closed behind her. I fall asleep minutes later, feeling something heavy pulling me under, deeper and deeper into the silence.

* * *

**-Peeta-**

I get home from the bakery as the sun begins to dip beneath the mountains. Finding the note from Katniss, I slip my boots back on and head out to the Seam, wondering why she isn't back home yet like her note promised.

The walk through the district is quiet. It's getting lighter in the evenings, and the cold chill of winter is receding. On several occasions I see groups of children playing in the streets, taking advantage of the prolonged sunlight, kicking up dust as they run about, singing and laughing and picking daisies. In a few weeks, I'll have a child of my own, in my arms, readily relying on me to keep him or her safe. A smile finds its way onto my lips as dodge a group of Seam boys, their spindly stick legs and knobbly knees dark and tanned from being in the sun. They look almost identical with their unruly dark curls and striking grey eyes, but small details set them apart. The line of their jaw, a bump in their nose.

A group of girls about the same age sit on a grassy embankment, making crowns about of daisies, giggling and watching the boys shout to each other in the street. I wonder what a son would be like. Would he have dark hair and blue eyes? Light hair and grey eyes? Maybe he'd look exactly like me, or exactly like Katniss. Would he like to bake and paint? Or would he favour hunting and running about, climbing trees with his mother? If the baby is a girl, she would be undoubtedly spoiled. New dresses, dolls, shoes, colouring books. Anything she wanted. But I can see a girl having Katniss' temperament- stubborn, proud and frivolous. Disagreeing with 'petty and girly and impractical' things like dresses and dolls. Would she have her hair braided into braids like Katniss did when she was a child, on one long plait down her back? Maybe she'd hate painting, but love baking. The possibilities are endless.

I reach the Everdeen household and knock on the door, rocking back and forth on my heels, my hands in my pockets as I wait. Prim answers the door.

"Katniss here?" I ask, ducking my head slightly to fit through the doorway.

"She's sleeping. Mom put some lavender into her tea. She was looking tired."

"She hasn't been sleeping well," I nod my head, thinking of how I've felt her fingers winding through my hair as I drifted in and out of consciousness. "How long has she been out?"

"Five hours." Mrs Everdeen says with a smile, tucking a pin into a piece of fabric, before cutting the thread attached to it with her teeth.

"She snores when she lies on her side." Prim laughs softly.

"You tell her that she snores! Kat doesn't believe me when I say that she snores, but she complains all the time that I snore like... what was it... a pig."

"Katniss isn't one to talk. It's like thunder in there." I nod my head and move through the small house into the living room, the door creaking when I open it. Katniss lies on the sofa, one arm hanging over the side, her fingers grazing the floorboards. I move to sit by her legs, and, sure enough, she sniffles and wrinkles her nose against the pillow, before letting her snores level out into a continuous rhythm. I try smooth out a seemingly permanent frown line on her forehead with my thumb, and brush her hair from her face. She looks so peaceful in her sleep. Her face relaxes out of its usual frown- taking on an angelic expression. I brush the end of her braid against her cheek and she swipes at it, mumbling something under her breath. I do it again, and she opens her eyes, squinting round at me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She grumbles, stretching her legs.

"Waking you up," I smile. "You've been out for almost five hours."

"Five?" Katniss exclaims, sitting up and frowning. "I told Mom to wake me up after an hour."

"It's okay," I smile, nudging her shoulder. "I got your note. And you haven't been sleeping very well lately, have you?"

"How'd you know that?" Katniss asks, leaning against my side, her head on my shoulder.

"I can feel you messing with my hair when I'm still half asleep."

"Sorry for waking you up." She apologises.

"I wasn't really awake. But you should've woken _me _if you couldn't sleep."

"Nah, it's alright," She says, staring off at something in the corner of the room. "It's just... everything Haymitch said. And Gale is gone. And we've got three weeks left, Peeta. _Three. _And then everything changes."

"I know."

"It just seems to be all happening at once, everything crammed into a few weeks."

"Why don't you talk about this with me? I'll always listen to you, Kat," I put my arm around her shoulders. "I'm experiencing everything you're experiencing."

"Sans the baby."

"Yes, sans the baby." I grin. Katniss laughs.

"I need to revise for the exam," She continues. "It'll look especially bad if I don't pass... you know, because Mom's a healer and I'm actually having a baby."

"This'll look bad if I don't pass as well!"

"Shit, we both need to revise." Katniss grins.

"Start tomorrow," I say. "All I want to do now is go home, eat some food and go to bed." Katniss nods and stands, pulling me up, and we say goodbye to Prim and Mrs Everdeen. Heading out into the street, we pass some of the children I saw playing football and making daisy crowns, who are now being corralled back home by older siblings and parents. Katniss squeezes my hand tightly when a small boy, his legs still chubby, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, bumps into us.

"Sowwy," He says, looking up at us with pink cheeks. "Mr Peeta?" He asks, recognizing me.

"Davy, isn't it?" I ask, bending down to his height. The boy nods eagerly.

"You married Katniss didn't you? He asks, looking across and Katniss. I nod my head. "Why?"

"Because I love her," I chuckle. Katniss whacks my head. Davy frowns.

"My pappy said you kissed her and made a baby." He says, looking at Katniss' stomach.

"Your pappy is right, Davy. But I still love her."

"I kissed Myralee," Davy says, suddenly looking panicked. "Is she going to have a baby?"

"No, no. Don't worry," I say, glancing up at katniss. She bites her lip, holding back a laugh. "But you shouldn't be kissing people at your age. Wait until you're much older."

"That's what my mammy said." Davy grins, showing off the gap in his teeth.

"Your mammy is very smart."

"Have you got any cookies?"

"Not today, I'm afraid. But if you go to the bakery and say that I sent you, you can get a free cookie if you want." Davy nods, backing slowly away, gripping his football under his arm.

"Fank you, Mr Peeta. Bye bye Miss Katniss." Davy says, turning away and dashing down the street. Katniss places her hand on my shoulder and lets out a breath.

"You handled that excellently."

"I try my hardest." I reply, standing up straight.

"He's adorable."

"I know," I grin, looking down the street. "He's got an awful sweet tooth."

"None of the kids would have a sweet tooth if you didn't give free cookies out all the time."

"What can I say? I take one look at them and cave in."

"This baby is going to be so pampered." She says, patting her stomach fondly.

"I'll pamper you too. Don't get jealous." I grin. Katniss shoves my arm and I grab her hand as she tries to step back, spinning her back into my arms. She kisses me once and pulls me along, down the street, her braid smacking against her back with every step.

* * *

As promised, Kat and I both start to help each other revise the following day. Using the textbooks from school, we sort out a list of questions and writing them onto flashcards to text each other on. Katniss lays back on the bed, limbs spread into a star shape, and stares out of the open window as I test her. While my method of bribery to get her to revise involved chocolate, cheese buns, and slow kisses on the neck, Katniss has very different ideas.

"Peeta..." She says in a sing-song voice. I lift my head from looking down at my English textbook and she takes the book from my lap, pushing my shoulders back until they touch the mattress. She climbs onto me, settling above me, her braid falling into my face. "I think we should take a break from revising. We've been at it all morning. And half the afternoon."

"What distraction do you have in mind? We're running low on milk. We could go down to the market and buy some more." I say, knowing what she's actually talking about but dragging her on regardless. She smirks and leans forward, before pressing her lips to mine. The pressure on her hips against mine makes me groan against her lips, and she giggles.

"You sure you wanna go to the market?" She asks.

"The milk can wait." I say, pulling her back down, slanting my mouth over hers, before sitting up and shuffling back to lean against the headrest. Katniss tilts her head back to expose her slender neck to me, resting kissing my forehead and breathing heavily. She kisses me again, this time sliding her tongue over my bottom lip to deep the kiss, cradling my face in her hands. I place my hands on her thighs, and she pulls away suddenly.

"I can't wait for a flat stomach again," She whispers. "It would make everything so much easier."

"Yeah, but there'll be a crying baby wanting out attention."

"Hopefully he or she will understand that her parents have needs." Katniss grins, kissing me again. I smirk against her lips, squeezing her legs.

"I can't wait." I breathe. She tugs on my hair sharply in what I think is meant to be a scolding gesture, but it just sends electricity surging through me, straight to my groin. Katniss swallows my moan, shifting in my lap. My hands slide up, under her shirt, up to the undersides of her breasts. I make a move to remove her bra, but she stops my hands.

"Not yet," She says. "They're sensitive."

"Damn."

"I know." She grins. I kiss her once more.

"Let's get back to revision."

The scowl on her face is _priceless_.


	45. Chapter 45: Arrival

**Exciting chapter right here! Thank you for the reviews, follows, and favourites to this story! Yet again, the tense change in the flashback is intentional. Sorry for not replying to some of your reviews, I've been stupidly busy the past week!**

***ALSO* I now have set up a tumblr account. Hit me up at _writingforhugs . tumblr . com _for useless complaining from me and pictures of food :)**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

In the weeks leading up to the Baby Games exam, Peeta and I revise everything we've learnt in the past few months. Effie organises a 'celebration of student progress', which includes standing in the hall for an hour as Effie rattles on about how impressed she is with our work, enthusiasm, and overall 'zest'. Haymitch, not unlike the majority of the students, looks bored out of his mind, rolling his eyes at almost every word Effie says in her strained Capitol accent. She claps her hands excitedly at the prospect of having 'shining' students leave this school come summertime, and, in the future, the children we may have with whoever we may fall in love with.

I don't miss the smirk Haymitch gives Peeta and me. Or the pointed look we receive from Effie as she puts extra emphasis on the word _future._ Peeta nudges me playfully, and I shake my head, laughing softly. It's all very sappy, as if anyone in this district is ever going to _leave _this district and find love with someone outside the fence. Nobody leaves District 12. If you've been born here, you'll sure as damn die here, like the countless generations before you.

I go to help the Mellarks in the bakery on a few days of the week in an attempt to keep myself busy, and to keep my mind away from things like an uprising, the whereabouts of the Hawthornes and the impending due date of the baby. Mr Mellark is just as bad as my husband. Peeta refuses to let my carry heavy things or do strenuous work, despite my insisting that I can do it, that I'm not made of glass, that _'the baby will be okay, Peeta, for goodness sake'_. Mr Mellark says that if there's a sack of flour or grain that needs to be brought up from the cellar or if there's something I can't reach, carry or do, I should ask Peeta, Fen, Rye or himself.

Of course, I refuse to listen to either one of them.

"No, no. Like this," Rye says for the tenth time, taking the rolling pin out of my hands and putting it aside. "You've got to put an equal amount of pressure onto the pin to get the dough to the same thickness all the way through."

"Why can't I just roll it out and then squish the bigger bits?" I ask, fed up with the whole process. I just want to make some cookies.

"Because that isn't how you bake." Rye laughs, taking the dough and tossing it into the bin.

"Hey! No! Why'd you throw it away?" I protest.

"It's been overworked now. It won't bake, and we can't sell it." Rye says calmly.

"But it's such a waste." I say, looking longingly at the swinging bin lid.

"Katniss, it's okay."

"It's not though, is it? I say, sticking my bottom lip out, emotion building in my chest.

"Christ. I hope that kid has the baking ability of his father and not you. It'd be a nightmare. I think Peeta would be a little disappointed as well," Rye laughs jokily, pulling jars from the shelves lining the walls and scooping flour from the sack against the wall onto the work surface, mixing the various ingredients together to make a fresh batch of dough.

I stand there, watching him work without having to measure or refer to recipe book, remembering everything from memory, and suddenly burst into tears. Rye's laughter is cut off as he looks at me in surprise. "Oh, _shit_," He breathes, staring at me in surprise. "Hey, Katniss, I was kidding. I didn't mean it."

"I- I know." I choke, wiping at my eyes, unable to control myself.

"I'm sure the kid will be good at baking. You're good at baking... you just need practice." Peeta's brother continues, wiping his hands and patting me awkwardly on the shoulder.

"I'm not crying b-because of what y-you said-"

"Then why the fuck are you upset?" Rye interrupts me.

"I d-don't know!" I sobs, slumping into a stool. Rye flounders momentarily before running out of the room, calling Peeta's name.

"Peeta! Katniss is crying!" He yells. I'd laugh at the whole situation if I wasn't so overcome with emotion. Peeta returns with Rye seconds later, punching his brother on the shoulder and demanding to know what he did to make me cry. "She just started sobbing! I don't know what happened!" Rye insists.

"It's okay." I say shaking my head, wiping furiously at my eyes. Peeta comes up to me and frowns.

"What's wrong?" He asks, placing his hands on my shoulders and squeezing them.

"I don't know. I was t-trying to roll out the c-cookie dough... And Rye w-was talking about t-the baby and I just burst into t-tears!" I confess, bewildered at my reaction. Peeta is trying to keep the smile off his face, but he eventually gives in and starts laughing. I shove his chest and try to turn away but he pulls me back to him, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Sorry for laughing, but this is quite funny, you have to admit."

"I don't k-know why I cried."

"Neither do I." Peeta chuckles. I rest my head against his chest and take a few deep breaths, wiping at my eyes and calming my erratic, juddery breathing.

"Sorry." Rye says quietly.

"S'Okay. I'm just an emotional mess right now." I say, letting out a breath. Rye just raises his eyebrows and turns back to baking, muttering about hormones. Peeta cradles my jaw lovingly, pressing soft kisses on the tip of my nose, on my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks, and finally my mouth.

* * *

It's a warm summer day when the sleek, silent train of supplies arrives in District 12. Peeta and I walk to the bakery hand in hand, savouring the precious moments when the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and everything seems almost perfect. Daffodils have begun to flower between the grass, and the florist has reopened with a wide variety of brightly coloured flowers. Peeta bought me a bouquet of wild flowers. The gesture was so sweet –something I never thought would happen to me- I launched myself onto him and kissed him until he was gasping for breath. They're now sitting in a jug of water on the kitchen table.

The Mellark boys head off to the train station with a cart to collect sacks of grain, flour, and various other ingredients that have been shipped in from the Capitol. Mr Mellark only opens the shop for an hour or two, and leaves his wife and daughter-in-law in charge.

"I don't trust you in the kitchen," Mrs Mellark sniffs, pursing her lips. "And I'm sceptical about you being in charge of the cash register, but it'll have to do." I have nothing to say to this and simply nod, turning to man the shop.

It doesn't go well. I become flustered and confused with who wants raisin bread- an old woman with grey, thinning hair, or the bearded young man with striking green eyes.

"Raisin bread for the woman, sugar cakes for me." The green-eyed man smiles, stepping closer.

"Oh, thank you," I say, nodding gratefully and bagging the separate orders. I turn back and find the green-eyed man still standing there. "Can I help you?" I ask, frowning slightly.

"You're a little young to be pregnant and married, don't you think?" He asks with a smirk. He's handsome, and he knows it, from his chiselled jaw, bronzed hair, and tan skin.

"I like to keep things fresh." I say, scowling at the man. I notice a strange band around his wrist, and watch the light reflect off its shiny surface. He clears his throat and I look up. He's caught me staring at his bracelet.

"I can see that," He says with a small smile on his lips, tucking the package of sugar cakes under his arm. "It was nice talking to you, Mrs Mellark. See you around."

And with that, he departs, leaving me to stare after him.

How did he know my name?

I didn't tell him my name.

* * *

Peeta's mother hovers at the door leading to the kitchen as I serve customers once she's finished baking whatever she needs to bake. I can feel her eyes watching my hands, especially when I work the cash register.

"Why don't you trust me?" I finally ask, turning to face her. She frowns, folding her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture. "You've been watching me like a hawk all day. I'm not going to steal from you if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm just making sure you can handle the orders." She replies, her eyes cold.

"I've been alright for all this time..." I say. "I think I can manage." I raise my eyebrows in the motion for her to leave. To stop watching me. But she just stands there, refusing the move. Letting out a sigh, I return to working, wiping the surface of the countertop with a damp rag, though Mrs Mellark remains in the doorway.

"I don't mean to be rude," I snap. "But could you please tell me what your problem is?"

"My problem?" She asks incredulously.

"Yes, _your problem. _Because no matter what I do you see to have an issue with it. I didn't intend to become pregnant. Or married at sixteen. But I'm happy now," I pause and let out a breath. "I'm sorry for messing anything up. But I'm trying my best to make everything right."

"That doesn't matter now. It's a little too late, don't you think?"

"I- I'm sorry." I say quietly.

"I don't want your apologies," Mrs Mellark sniffs, stepping forward and straightening a series of jars along the edge of the counter. "I want you to stop assuming that everything is going to be alright."

"When did I ever say that I thought everything would be alright?"

"You're thinking it. I can tell."

"So now you read minds?"

"You're a naive, foolish, waste of space. Peeta was going to marry a charming young woman with a respectable family. He had his whole life set out for him. Farrell was leaving the bakery to him. He'd have children of noble blood." Aymee Mellark's cheek turn red, as she gets madder and madder.

"Who says that he has to do what you want him to do? It's _his_ life. Not yours!"

"How dare you say that to me?!" She hisses, stepping closer to me, pointing a polished finger into my face. "Acting as if you have a single clue about what it's like to be a mother!"

"I'm going to be a mother in less than two weeks!" I cry, bringing my hand down on the countertop.

"And you're unprepared! Unfit to raise a child. Especially a child like yours!"

"My baby is a Mellark, whether you like it or not," I snap. "And you're not going to be a bitch around our child."

"I am _not _a bitch."

"You're a cold, soulless person who treats her sons like shit." I say.

"How dare you?!" Mrs Mellark repeats, a vein in her forehead sticking out.

"And just because you _know_ you were a second choice," I say, my voice cold and stony. "It doesn't mean you treat anyone else differently-!"

My words are cut off when Mrs Mellark brings her hand and slaps me- hard. I stagger slightly with the force, and grasp my stinging cheek. It's at this precise moment that Mr Mellark and his sons come through the door, large sacks of grain and flour over their shoulders.

"Mom!" Peeta shouts, his eyes wide.

"Aymee!" Mr Mellark yells at the same time. I glance at Peeta, watching him dump the sack he's carrying, and turn back to slap my mother-in-law. Peeta dashes forward before his mother or wife can make another move, gripping my arms and pinning them to my sides, preventing me from moving.

"You little _bitch_!" Mrs Mellark screeches, her eyes wide. I think she's mainly in shock, that she didn't think I'd actually have the guts to slap her back, but she recovers quickly, her lips curling into snarl. "How dare you slap me?! That child of yours is a _bastard. _An inbred _bastard_ that has no place in this world. They'll get _nowhere_ with _you_ as their mother!"

I think it's fair to say that is that moment when I lose my shit.

Peeta holds me back, lifting me off the ground and carting me off, further away from his mother as we scream at each other. Mrs Mellark has stormed out of the room, followed by her husband, before I feel hot tears burning against my cheeks. I yank my arms away from Peeta, wiping furiously at my cheeks, ashamed that I've been overtaken emotionally but the woman who seems to only want to make me feel worthless.

I was wrong to bring up her lost love with Peeta's father. It's a tricky subject that brings unnecessary pain, but I'm so, _so _angry. She was insulting me. My child. Her own son. The room is silent, and it's my laboured breathing that breaks the silence. I can hear Mr Mellark talking hurriedly to his wife in hushed tones in the kitchen, and Peeta flinches behind me at the sound of a something smashing.

"Kat..." He whispers, and I immediately wish for the ground to just swallow me up. I can't believe I just did that.

"I'm sorry." I reply, my cheeks burning.

"Are you okay?" He asks, trying to turn me around. Fen and Rye excuse themselves, carting the bags of flour over their shoulders.

"Peeta, I didn't mean for this to happen. She just rubs me the wrong way... and I got so angry!"

"Katniss, it's okay."

"It isn't! I'm a mess! She's right! I can't be a mother. This child is going to hate me." Peeta turns me around and shakes my shoulders, his eyes sad.

"Stop it, okay? Just stop doing this, every damn day!"

"What am I doing?"

"Acting like you can't do anything. That you wont be a good mother!"

"But it's true." I say quietly, wishing my voice didn't sound so whiney.

"It _isn't. _Okay? I'm freaking out. You're freaking out. Everyone's freaking out," He bites his lip. "And it doesn't help when you go into self-destruct mode and try to convince yourself that you're worthless. Sure, you shouldn't have slapped Mom. But she slapped you first. And so what if we don't raise our child the way that seems sensible? This baby is ours. No one else's. _Ours,_" He pauses, inhaling deeply and tilting my chin back to force me to look at him. "You hear me? I'm sick of this."

"I didn't know you felt this way." I mumble, shocked at the reaction Peeta has given.

"Well, you know now. Every single fucking day I look at you and think about what an amazing woman you are. That you're _sixteen_, but have still managed to go through your father's death, living in the Seam, and looking after your family for all these years. Every time I saw you I would see how you put everyone first, ignoring yourself. And that makes me sure that you'll put the baby first, Katniss. Please believe in yourself."

It's quiet for a long time. I look away, focusing on the clock on the wall on the other side of the shop. I think about what Peeta has said. I think back to my earliest memories of seeing the blonde-haired, blue-eyed baker's son. Unlike Peeta's first sighting of me at the school gates, the first time I saw him was when I was three or four.

* * *

_Lowell and Dahlia Everdeen tried to stay in the Seam as much as possible, their scandalous marriage still hot news in the Merchant Quarters. Lowell takes Katniss to the Hob sometimes, and he visits all of the stalls to try and find what he needs. Dahlia goes there to find cloth to make dresses and to patch up the elbows and knees of her husband's pants and shirts because she says he wears them out too fast. Katniss likes going to the Hob with Papa the best. He lets her ride on his shoulders, which means she can see above everybody's heads and pretend that she's a giant._

_It's a beautifully warm day, with endless blue sky above, and endless green grass below. Mrs Everdeen sits inside, the door propped open to let the summer breeze circulate through the house, darning yet another of Lowell's shirts, her hair drawn up from around her head into a tight bun. She puts the needle and thread down, rubbing her eyes, the fiddly work tiring her eyes. Standing from the chair, she pours herself a drink of mint leaf and strawberry tea, condensation forming on the glass from the cold liquid inside._

_Katniss sits outside, her dark hair in two braids coiled on either side of her head, tied up with green ribbons –because pink ribbons are silly and green is a better colour- with a straw hat placed firmly on top. Katniss hates hats. _

'_But I can't see the sky! Or the birds! I have to tilt my head right back to see!' She would say, throwing the hat down onto the grass._

'_You'll get a headache if you don't wear your hat, Kitty. And then Papa won't take you out.' Dahlia Everdeen had replied, a smug smile working its way onto her lips when her daughter hurried to reclaim the hat. Currently, Katniss is picking every single daisy she can find and making them into a daisy chain, claiming that it's going to be the longest chain in Panem. It's already double the height of her, and she has laid it out over the ground behind her so it doesn't get tangled. Her skinny legs are spread out in front of her, peeking out from her dress. Dahlia is so preoccupied with watching her daughter, that she doesn't hear the front door creak open, the footsteps moving closer and closer to her over the dusty floorboards, and she lets out a surprised gasp when Lowell comes up behind her, whispering 'isn't she wonderful?' into her ear._

"_Low, you idiot!" She says, motioning to the front of her dress, which is now soaked with mint and strawberry tea. He just chuckles, putting the box containing traded items from the Hob onto the table and kissing his wife. Tiny pecks of the lips all over her face, down her arm, and a long kiss on her knuckles._

"_But she is, isn't she?" He says, grey eyes flickering to the right to see Katniss in the yard. Dahlia nods._

"_She's amazing. Stubborn, but amazing. She made that daisy chain all by herself."_

"_Really?" Lowell asks, his hands sliding down Dahlia's back, settling on her hips._

"_Yes, really."_

"_She looks pretty distracted..." Lowell nods, his hair falling into his face as he leans in to kiss Dahlia on the lips, backing her against the cabinets. _

"_Lowell... what if she... what if Kitty comes in?" Dahlia gasps between kisses, though her hands are already winding their way through his hair, and under his shirt, nails scraping against his tanned washboard stomach._

"_She won't," He says, undoing the top buttons of her dress. "Let me help you out of those wet clothes." He adds with a wink. Dahlia blushes, kissing her husband and letting him undo the front of her dress, exposing her bare chest. "It's too hot." She explains when Lowell raises his eyebrows, fully expecting at least a bra below the soft, worn material of his wife's dress. Dahlia is halfway up the side of the cabinet, one leg around Lowell's hips, her dress slipping down her arms, with her hand down his pants, when the screen door slams shut._

"_Mama?" Katniss' high voice rings out. Dahlia freezes, removing her hand from Lowell's underwear, buttoning her dress, as Lowell hastily zips up his pants. "What are you doing?"_

"_I was just helping Mama with her dress. She spilt some tea." Lowell lies, the words rolling easily off his tongue. Dahlia smiles sweetly, noticing the downstairs situation her husband is trying to hide, and steps forward to convince Katniss to show her the daisy chain._

"_Why you all red?" Katniss continues as she's lead back into the yard. Dahlia glares at Lowell over her daughter's head. He winks, before disappearing into the bathroom. _

"_It's a very hot day," She says. "That's why I had a drink. Papa made me jump, and I spilt it."_

"_Silly Mama." Katniss giggles, her eyes bright, her skirts swishing as she jumps down from the porch and onto the grass._

"_Yes, silly Mama." Dahlia agrees, running after her daughter and tickling her, rolling about in the grass. _

"_Kitty, do you want to come to town with me?"Lowell asks some time later, stepping into the yard, swinging Katniss into his arms. Dahlia straightens up from tending to her Primrose flowers, the bright yellow and pink flowers growing in organized chaos around the edge of the yard, by the painted fences, and gives him a pointed look. Katniss nods excitedly._

"_Yes please!" She grins, the prospect of going through the cobbled streets of the Merchant Quarter sounding like too much of an adventure to pass up on._

"_Make sure you wear your hat at all times!" Dahlia says, picking up the hat in question from the ground and putting it onto Katniss' head. The little girl frowns, sticking out her bottom lip. "And be back for dinner. I'm making casserole." _

"_We'll back with plenty of time to spare, don't you worry," Lowell says, putting Katniss down. "Run and put your boots on, Kitty." Katniss disappears over the grass, singing joyfully, and Dahlia waits until the screen door has closed before turning to her husband and backhanding his arm. _

"_Low!" She hisses, eyes wide, lips set in a line. _

"_What?" He laughs, eyes twinkling. She melts a little, his good looks and charming personality one of the first things that drew her to the dusty coal miner. _

"_You know what," She whispers once she's collected her thoughts. "I told you we shouldn't. That Kitty would walk in. And what does she do? She walks in on us, Lowell!"_

"_It's okay. She's four, Lia! Do you honestly think she's gonna walk in a say 'eww, gross, you're making out'?"_

"_Obviously she isn't going to say that, since it was much more than 'making out', you immature, teenage boy." She says, shoving him again. He just laughs louder, following her into the house, grabbing her pointy elbow to pull her to him before she can sit down again. _

"_Hey, look. I'm sorry. I didn't know she was going to come in." He says softly, tucking a loose strand of golden hair back into the bun atop Dahlia's head._

"_Damn right."_

"_But she's not gonna say anything. She's smart, but she's young," Lowell smiles, and Dahlia looks up at him, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning back at him. "And don't say you didn't enjoy it." He adds, whispering into her ear._

"_Shut up." She smirks. Katniss enters the room, shoes in hand, and sits on a stool as her parents help to tie the laces. Shoes tied, hat on head, daisy crown in hand, she dances out of the room. Lowell kisses Dahlia once more._

"_Let's see who's immature when we finish what I started." He breathes, his voice low and husky, before ducking out of the room. Dahlia grips the chair and sighs. (Primrose –aptly named after the flowers Dahlia loves so much- is born nine months later)._

_Meanwhile, Lowell has thrown Katniss onto his shoulders, and holds onto her small feet as he strides down the dusty track. Katniss arranges the daisy crown onto her father's head, and holds on tight as they get closer to town. _

"_Why we going to town?" She asks, watching a group of older boys kick a ball about further down the street._

"_Tomorrow is Mama and mine's wedding anniversary," Lowell explains. "I want to buy some flowers for her."_

"_What's an anni- anni-"_

"_Anniversary?" Lowell asks. Katniss nods thought her father can't see her do it. "An anniversary is like... a birthday. You know that you celebrate your birthday every year?"_

"_I had cake!" Katniss exclaims._

"_So you did," Her father chuckles, waving to Duke Hawthorne and his son, who's two years older than Katniss. "Well, an anniversary is like a birthday for when you get married. You celebrate getting married."_

"_How long... how long you and Mama been... married?" Katniss asks, struggling with the new words._

"_Three years, Kitty."_

"_Free?" Katniss asks in surprise. "But dat's forever!"_

"_I hope we're married forever, Kitty. Three years isn't that long."_

"_It is!" Katniss disagrees._

"_No it isn't, silly."_

"_It is!" Katniss exclaims, kicking her legs about. Lowell just smiles to himself. When they reach the Merchant Quarters, Katniss looks around with wide eyes, ducking under the brightly coloured paper banners that are strung across the streets, in awe at all the shops and all the people and all the noise. Lowell works his way across the square, a head above many of the people, and lifts Katniss down once they reach the florist's shop at the corner. She immediately head for the flowers on display, touching the petals of the colourful plants and smelling them. _

"_What do you think Mama would like to have?" Lowell asks, crouching down to Katniss' height._

"_Mama likes pwimroses." Katniss says resolutely. _

"_She does, doesn't she?" Lowell nods, standing up again. He lets Katniss choose which of the primroses on display to buy, and says that some plant with clusters of tiny white flowers, and green foliage will make it look better. The florist lets Katniss sit on the counter as she ties up the flowers and arranges them, scrunching up some pale blue paper around the bouquet._

"_Thank you, they're lovely." Lowell thanks the florist once she's finished tying a ribbon around the bouquet, and gives it to Katniss for her to hold while he pays for the flowers._

"_For Dahlia?" The florist asks, ringing up the total. _

"_Yes," Lowell says, digging into the pouch on his hip and producing a handful of golden coins. "It's our anniversary tomorrow."_

"_Three years, am I right?" _

"_Correct." Lowell smiles._

"_Well, congratulations. I hope you have a lovely day," The florist says. She glances at Katniss, who is eyeing a jar of red and yellow candy with wide eyes. With a kindly smile, the woman pushes the jar closer. "Take a few my dear." _

"_Really?" Katniss asks, her mouth dropping open._

"_Go ahead."_

"_Thank you!" She gasps, unfamiliar with being offered treats. She digs her hand into the jar and pulls out four of the plastic-wrapped candies. Lowell thanks the florist as well, and lifts Katniss into his arms, taking the bouquet of flowers so that his daughter can eat two of the treats. "One for you Papa," She says, unwrapping one of the candies and offering out a sticky hand._

"_No, no. You have it." Lowell shakes his head. Katniss shrugs and pops the candy into her mouth, humming contently as she chews, keeping the other candy in the breast pocket of her dress to give to her mother when they get home. She squirms about in her father's arms until he lets her down, but she has to hold his hand as to not get lost in the bustling summer crowds. They pass the bakery, and as they turn up onto the road that will lead to the Seam, Lowell bumps into a small boy._

"_Sorry, sir." The boy says, his eyes shockingly blue, his hair flopping into his eyes._

"_S'Okay." Lowell chuckles. _

"_Daddy!" The boy shouts, continuing on the path he was on, shooting down the back alleys that lead to the back doors of various shops, like the bakery. Both of the Everdeens watch as an older boy with the same blonde hair struggles past, holding a chubby boy of Katniss' age. Katniss blinks. The boy's nose is bleeding._

"_Rye!" The second boy yells, his voice warbling. Katniss can hear him chanting 'don't cry, don't cry' under his breath to the boy he carries. "Where's Daddy?" Lowell steps forward, stopping the boy in his tracks._

"_Are you okay?" He asks. Katniss curiously peeks over the rim of her hat. "Fenton, isn't it?"_

"_Yes," The boy says, holding the younger child tight to him. Katniss bites her lip, watching the child sniffle, tear-streaked cheeks glistening in the sunlight. She wants to know how his nose got so bloody. "Peety took a candy from the man in the shop and Mommy hit him." _

"_Peeta?" Lowell asks, his back tensing and prickling. Aymee Mellark is a piece of work, he knew that much, but he didn't think that she would go as far as hitting her __**four year old son. **__He grimaces, reaching a hand forward to the sniffling child, his heart wrenching when the child shies away, erupting into a bout of tears. "Did your mother do this to you?"_

"_Mommy said I couldn't tell no one." Peeta sobs. Lowell digs out a greying hanky and gives it to Rye, who dabs at his younger brothers swollen, button nose. Katniss hides her face in her father's hair. She hates it when people cry. _

"_Peeta?!" A loud voice calls, and Lowell looks up to see Farrell Mellark hurrying down the uneven road, covered in flour. _

"_Daddy!" Peeta says, breaking free and stumbling forward. Lowell notes how his boots a way too big for him. No doubt that's Aymee's work. Farrell scoops his youngest son up into his arms, his eyes horrified as he examines the young boys face._

"_What happened?" He says, anger, frustration, and sadness written all over his face, though his voice is gentle. Fenton and Rye grip their father's leg. "I told you boys about being rough with Peeta. He's not old enough yet."_

"_Mommy hit him." Rye says, plain and simple._

"_Mommy?" Farrell chokes. Rye nods. Farrell notices the small audience of two at the end of the road and his shoulders slump. Lowell, horrified and saddened, nods his head sombrely, picking up the bouquet of flowers he dropped and walking on. Farrell cradles his son to his chest, and doesn't notice that the Seam man who stole the love of his life gave his son a handkerchief until Peeta has been given a plate of mashed potato and is curled up in his crib later that night. He tries to hate the man, but it's impossible._

* * *

I think of all the times he smiled at me in the corridors, or gave up his seat for me in music class, or snuck extra bread rolls and cookies and cupcakes and all manners of treats into my game back for one mangled squirrel. All the times he lent me pens and pencils when I didn't have one. The time when he waited with Prim under the apple tree in the school yard when I was kept behind in the principal's office for punching Denny Small. Everything Peeta Mellark did for me was out of the kindness of his own heart. He's given up a possibly perfect life with a big-bosomed Merchant girl, where he would work in the bakery all his life and have perfect children with blonde curls and blue eyes, all for me.

For me and our baby.

And what have I done in return?

I've scowled at him in the corridors, kept my seat in music class, and demanded that _'we don't need you charity!' _whenever he gave me the extra food I really needed. All the times I sheepishly returned his pens and pens with my teeth marks all over the ends. When I shoved him and told him to leave my sister alone. All my life, all I've ever done act like Panem's grumpiest child. Why didn't I just accept the fact that there are people with goodness in their hearts? Why didn't I just smile and say thank you, for once in my life?

"I don't deserve you." I mutter. Peeta throws his hands into the air in exasperation.

"For fuck sake, Katniss. Of course you don't deserve me. I'm not good enough for someone as amazing as you."

"Don't say that, Peeta. That isn't true."

"You stop putting yourself down, and I'll stop saying that." Peeta challenges me, his eyes blazing. I swallow, closing my eyes and clearing my head.

"I'm not apologising to her."

"She's probably said the same thing." Peeta chuckles, pulling me close and kissing me. I put my arms around his neck, my stomach getting in the way. I so badly want to press myself flat against his torso. I want to be able to move freely. I want to be able to go an hour without needing the bathroom.

"Sorry. For getting into a fight again."

"If this baby has any sense, they'll be like you. At least you know how to reduce someone to tears."

"Thank you?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. Peeta grins and hugs me, resting his chin in the crook of my shoulder.

"Mom'll come around eventually, I'm sure. At some point she'll want to meet her grandchild," Peeta says softly, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Fuck. We're having a baby."

"Didn't you realise?" I ask. Peeta pulls away and looks down at my stomach.

"Jesus, where did that come from?" He asks, feigning surprise. I bat his arm.

"You had a big part in getting this thing to appear, trust me." I say. The tips of his ears redden and I laugh, though butterflies are dancing in my stomach.

"What are you going to do once he or she is here?" Peeta asks, and he folds his arms over chest as if he were carrying a baby.

"Go into the forest and roll in the grass," I say, my eyes mischievous, but my tone serious. Peeta gives me a pointed look, his lips twisting up into a smile. "What about you?" Peeta thinks for a moment, before leaning in and whispering into my ear, his fingers digging into my hips.

"I'm going to kiss you until you're dizzy..." He says, and I bite my lip. "And, because I've been wanting to for three months now, I will make love to you all through the night."

"That sounds good." I breathe.

"Just good?" Peeta asks teasingly.

"I don't want to expect too much of you, old man." I say, kissing his cheek and pushing him away.

* * *

I don't see Mrs Mellark for most of the week after our blow up. Fen and Rye stop by during the weekend –interrupting a heated kiss on the couch between Peeta and me- and tease me mercifully about slapping their mother.

"'Bout time, really." Fen mutters over his cup of tea.

"I'd never hit a woman, but she isn't exactly... human." Rye adds. I snort into my cup, and tea goes everywhere.

"Jesus Christ..." I sigh, looking down at the damp table in dismay. Now I'm going to have to get up, and God knows how long that'll take. Fen stands and wipes it away with a rag however, and leaves the rag beside me in case I do something similar again. We end up playing cards well into the night. Rye cheats; hiding cards in between the sofa cushions. Fen wins, fair and square, and demands for a prize. Peeta rolls his eyes, but hands him a bottle of beer from the case we keep in the pantry.

Rye somehow manages to steal the entire case of beer (though Fen looks equally as guilty when I demand to know why the case is empty), and Peeta leaves to escort his brothers back to the bakery.

"I'll be back in ten minutes." He promises, pulling on a coat.

Almost an hour later, Peeta hasn't returned. I give up with waiting up for him, and head off to bed, keeping the door locked. He knows where the spare key is. But the bed feels enormous without Peeta. I've grown used to having him beside me at night. He keeps me warm and fights away any nightmares that try to disturb my sleep. I miss his presence filling the bed. Now it just feels cold and lonely, and no matter which way I arrange the covers I can feel an icy draft against my skin. With a dramatic sigh, I throw the covers back and hurry down the stairs, hissing when my bare feet make contact with the floor. Snatching the quilted duvet off the back of the couch, I sling it over my shoulders.

Halfway up the stairs, and there's a knock on the door. The doorknob rattles.

"Kat?" Peeta's voice calls out. "I can't get in." I lock my jaw. _Seriously? _ "Katniss?" His voice sounds out again, and I stomp down the stairs, unlock the door, and swing it open.

"What the fuck, Peeta? Where have you been?" I ask as the door opens, revealing a very intoxicated Peeta.

"Hey, Kat... I'm sorry." Peeta slurs, leaning against the doorframe.

"Did Fen and Rye take you out drinking?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"No... yeah," Peeta shakes his head, clearly confused. "I know I said- said I'd be back. But Rye said I needed to have... to have a drink. Said that the b-baby would make me boring."

"Okay," I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose tiredly. "Come on upstairs. I'll get you some water." Peeta steps forward and promptly trips over the threshold, slivering down the wall and onto his ass. I make a mental note to kill Rye and Fen the next time I see them. I shut the door and lock it, before turning to Peeta. Tugging on his arm, I prompt him to stand, though it hurts my back to pull him up. He holds onto the wall as he navigates his way to the stairs, and crawls up on all fours, his steps heavier than usual, while I go into the kitchen and pour him a glass of water. I take it upstairs and put it on the cabinet on his side of the bed, before going into the bathroom to find some headache pills. He's in a sorry state, his eyes heavy, his hair ruffled, and his attempts to communicate are pitiful at best.

"Katniss, I'm sorry. I should've told Rye... Rye that I had to get back," He mumbles. I stay silent, and guide him back into the bedroom, sitting him down on the bed. He goes to lie back, but I tell him to sit up for a second. "But he said that one drink wouldn't work and then he said that this was my last chance and... and I knew it wasn't true... but I had another drink and that turned into another."

"Peeta, don't worry about it." I say, tugging off his shoes and lining them up by the wall. He pulls his pants off, and I tug his shirt over his head, smiling sympathetically. He's been reduced to a child-like form, and all the memories of child Peeta flood back to me. I smooth my hand over the places that have been covered in bruises, cuts, and burns, trying to wipe away the memories that must fill his head. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against my stomach. The baby shifts again, and Peeta looks up with bleary eyes. "See, I told you he moves when you're around." I say softly. Peeta laughs as if I've said the funniest thing, and scrambles back under the covers. I follow close behind, coxing him to swallow the headache pills and the entire glass of water.

"I love you, baby." Peeta says, placing his hands on my stomach, before leaning down and kissing it.

"Baby loves you too," I say, though how can he really love it when hasn't even seen the child? Peeta sighs contently, pulling me into his arms. I'm quiet for a while, happy to have him back –even if he _does _smell of alcohol. "I'll kill your brothers, okay?" I ask. Peeta just snores into my ear, his arm tightening around me, dead to the world. I roll my eyes and bury my face into his chest, drawing patterns on his skin until I'm swallowed under by sleep.

* * *

-Peeta-

Karma comes into play the next morning, when I wake with an awful hangover that makes my head throb whenever I move. Katniss simply hands me a cup of coffee and some more headache pills.

"Kat, I'm sorry." I say, burying my face in the pillow.

"Don't worry about it, Peeta. I should've known that your brothers would drag you out for some drinks." She says dismissively, folding up some fresh washing from the line into a pile on top of the cupboard.

"Really, I should've said no at the first mention of alcohol. If it didn't feel like my head was about to fall off, I would tell you to sit down and do the washing myself."

"I'm sure you would've," Katniss says, smiling up at me. "But I actually like doing the washing now. It keeps me busy and clears my head."

"But I'm just lying here. A great lazy lump."

"Peeta, it's fine."

"You're just saying that."

"I don't mind!"

"Katniss-"

"Peeta! Shut up!" She snaps, her eyes twinkling. "It's okay. I really don't mind, and I'm not just saying that," She shuts the top drawer of the cupboard. "Sleep the hangover off, and come downstairs when you're not squinting like an old man."

"Kat..." I say.

"Peeta, sleep away the alcohol. We all know that when you're intoxicated things go badly."

"You were drunk as well."

"Eldest has more responsibility."

"You took advantage of me."

"_I _took advantage of _you?" _She asks. "I think we're both equally at fault." I grin. She throws a pillow at my head and tells me to sleep.

And that's what I do. Katniss draws the curtains, kisses my forehead, and squeezes through the door with her empty linen basket. Several hours later, I wake to a quiet house. The hangover hasn't disappeared just yet, so I crawl downstairs and into the kitchen to get more headache pills. As I down the rest of the water, I pause and listen. Someone's singing. Instinctively I cock my head to one side to concentrate on the sound, putting the cup down and moving out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and towards the front door. It's open just a little, letting the cool spring air into the house.

Edging along the wall, I peek through the door and pull it open a little more, praying for the hinges not to creak. Katniss is sitting on the block of concrete that serves as our front step, her hair loose and rippling in the breeze, singing softly into the quiet street. A skinny stray dog is standing several feet away, darting forward and backward, yellow eyes cautious. Katniss is holding a plate of meat scraps, and holds a piece out for the dog as she sings. I realise that I haven't heard Katniss sing for years. I assume that she's sung during the course of our marriage, but when I wasn't present. I wonder why. Her voice is beautiful; low and rough, with a touch of the warbling high tones that girls usually tend to have, instead of the deep tones of males.

"Why don't you sing more often?" I ask, opening the door and moving forward to sit beside her, drawing my knees up to my chest. Katniss leans against me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"I don't know," She confesses. "My father always sang. He sang to wake us, he sang to put us to sleep. He sang in the forest, in the yard, and he would sing as he danced with Mom in the kitchen when he thought Prim and I had gone to sleep," She sighs longingly. "It was always a special thing, I suppose. Something between me and Dad."

"I'm sorry." I say, immediately regretting bringing it up. She squeezes my arm.

"Don't worry. You're right. I should sing more. It makes me happy, and what's wrong with doing what makes you happy?" I kiss her temple and take a piece of meat from the plate, holding it out for the stray dog, who's sat back on its skinny legs, sniffing the air.

"How long has this little guy been out here?" I ask.

"I don't know. I thought I left my boots outside, and when I opened the door he was rooting through the bins across the road."

"Any success?" I ask. She shakes her head. We sit there in compatible silence for a fair amount of time, and I hold the scrap of meat out for the dog to take. We watch as he timidly steps closer, paws shifting over the cobbled ground, and Katniss lets out a little gasp of delight when the animal darts forward and snatches the titbit from my hand, scampering away an eating it in the shade of the houses on the opposite side of the street.

"He's so thin," Katniss whispers. "Normally I wouldn't have come out to give an animal food. I guess I could relate to him."

"You have a go." I say, taking the plate. She picks up the meat and holds it out, clucking her tongue as she waits. Eventually the stray returns, and pretty soon the entire plate is empty. Katniss brings out a bowl of water and sets it down in the middle of the road, and she smiles widely when the dog begins to drink. A man with a horse and cart comes clattering down the road and the dog scares, running away down the street. I go to pick up the empty bowl of water and return to Katniss.

"Poor thing." She mutters. I smile sympathetically and help her up, watching the dog hiding behind a row of trashcans.

* * *

I turn to my punching bag as a way of getting rid of my hangover. The sun is hot on my bare back, but it feels nice. Sweating feels nice. It helps me clear my mind, to rid my head of the clouded memories that fill it. Katniss comes out with a cool drink, and traces her hands over the scars on my back and arms with a sad expression. I'm thrown backwards into the past with a sickening jolt.

_Mr Mellark is woken by the sound of a bedroom door opening. He blinks, staring into the darkness of him and his wife's bedroom. He hears the door closing, lock clicking into place. Whoever's sneaking out of bed is quiet, but not silent. Twisting his head around, he checks to see that Aymee has remained asleep. She is, her lips pressed into a hard line even in unconsciousness. Drawing back the covers, he pulls on a pair of thick knitted socks and heads out of the room. The hallway is empty. The door to Rye and Peeta's room is closed. He presses his ear to Fenton's room. He can hear the twelve-year-olds snores through the wood, confirming that the eldest Mellark boy is not the one who snuck out. He opens the door to the other bedroom. Rye's bed is by the door –he can see his second eldest sons body beneath the covers. Peeta's bed is empty. _

_Farrell frowns; it's unlike his youngest to be one to disobey the rules of not getting out of bed. He checks the bathroom. Empty. What is Peeta doing? By stepping on the edge of each step of the staircase, he manages to get downstairs without making much noise. If Aymee wakes she'll be angry and much less considerate when it comes to dealing with Peeta. The kitchen is dark, the moon hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, but he can see the little blonde head of curls that belongs to Peeta Mellark behind the breadbin, chubby hands reaching out for more of the stale flatbread that he likes to eat so much with creamy butter or sweet jam._

"_Peet?" He calls out. The hand that is reaching up freezes, before disappearing behind the breadbin. _

"_Dad?" _

"_Yes, don't worry." Farrell says._

"_I was hungry," Peeta says, looking down at the small slice of bread in his hand."I'm sorry for waking you."_

"_And you're not supposed to get out of bed," Farrell chuckles softly. Peeta smiles his gap-tooth, six-year-old smile, and steps forward. Farrell opens a jam jar, the lid making a soft 'pop' sound, and spreads it over the bread with a butter knife, handing it to his son. "Why are you awake at this time of night?" He continues, glancing up at the clock._

"_I had a dream about eating jam," The younger boy says, his eyes focusing on something in the distance. "So many jars. In all the colours of the rainbow. Strawberry jam, orange, blackberry, lemon, gooseberry jam. And I ate all of it."_

"_All of it?"_

"_Yes. Every single jar. And then I got hungry because of the dream..." Peeta trails off, looking down at the half-eaten bread in his hand. Farrell ruffles his son's hair and sits down at the kitchen table to wait for him to finish eating._

_..._

_The following morning, Peeta is rudely awoken when his mother pours a bucket of icy water over his head._

"_Get up! Get up you greedy, lying scoundrel!" She snaps as he gasps in shock, hair flattened by the water that drips down his nose. Staring at the wall opposite, Rye listens to the yelling going on meters away from him. He refuses to turn around. "Up!" Aymee screeches, yanking Peeta out of the bed by his hair, causing him to tumble to the ground with a thump. He cries out when the sharp toe of her shoe makes contact with his side, forcing him to curl in on himself to protect his head. Rye knows that his brother, who's only six, shouldn't have to go through this. A six year old shouldn't have to know what to do when you're getting beaten by your own mother._

"_What did I do?" Peeta asks, squinting up from the floor._

"_Do __**not **__act like you don't know what you've done. You __**know **__what you've done!"_

"_I don't!" Peeta insists. "I don't know."_

"_I went into the kitchen this morning and what do I find? I find a slice taken from the breadbin, and half the strawberry jam is gone! Do you know how much it cost to ship that jam in?" She doesn't give him enough time to answer, and pulls him up by his elbow, dragging him out of the room and down into the kitchen, ignoring the yelps that escape his throat when his kneecap makes contact with the corner of the doorway. _

"_Dad!" He yells, his heart thumping wildly. His mother scares him. He hates how angry she gets. The bruises on his arms still hurt, and they're still deep purple in colour. "Dad!" He shouts again, struggling against his mother's grip on his elbow._

"_Your father is out with Fenton!" Aymee growls, pushing Peeta back a little. "Stop whining like a baby and face your punishment!"_

"_But Dad said I could have some as a snack!" Peeta protests. "Ask him!"_

"_Stop lying, all the damn time!" Aymee Mellark snaps. Peeta sticks his bottom lip out._

"_I'm not lying!"_

"_You lie constantly. You're a selfish, lying brat. I don't deserve you as my son." Aymee says, her voice getting colder the closer she steps forward. She brings her hand round to slap him, but Rye bursts onto the scene, grabbing his mother's arm to stop her. It's a risky move. It'll definitely result in something worse for not only Peeta, but Rye as well. _

"_Don't, Mom. He didn't do anything wrong!" Rye says, his brow furrowed, trying to look as fierce as a ten year old can possibly be. _

"_Take you hands off me," Aymee hisses, pulling her arm from Rye's grip. "Both of you are ungrateful shits, you hear me?" Both boys fall silent. Peeta is more shocked than his brother, unsure of how to react at the swearing. Aymee brings her hand down hard on the side of Rye's face, sending him backwards against the cabinets. Three kicks to the stomach and another slap later, she turns on Peeta, yanking him up by his hair. He can feel his hair getting ripped out at the roots and he tries to get away, but she slaps him again, and again, and again, and again, ignoring this pleads to stop. He wishes his father was there. Tears roll down his cheeks when her feels his mother's nails raking down his arms. She stops when blood trickles from his nose, brushing her hair from her face and stalking out of the room, telling them to keep the floor clean from blood._

* * *

I blink, releasing the punching bag from my iron-like grip. Even after all this time, I can still feel the sharp lash of the belt on my back. The fractured ribs. The dislocated shoulders that had to be popped back into place. All three of us have experienced dislocated shoulders. We would joke that it was Mom's speciality.

"That's a horrible thing to joke about." Katniss says, squeezing my hand. I swallow, realising that I've been saying the last few sentences out loud.

"We didn't have much else to joke about." I say grimly, punching the bag again.

* * *

Married life proves to be simple yet difficult. Katniss and I manage to merge our lives together seamlessly, moving about each other with ease. During the week when we have school, we wake and eat breakfast together. I help Katniss with the laces on her boots since she can't reach over her stomach anymore. And then we walk to school. School is Katniss' least favourite time of the day, because she has to move around, climbing up stairs and climbing down stairs to get to her classes. Once the day is over, she admits that she enjoys talking to Madge and seeing her sister more often, but thinks that Delly is 'too happy' for her taste. Her feet and back are aching by the time she's home, and rub her feet and shoulders to unravel the knots that tangle themselves up throughout the day. She takes a nap some days, and after dinner we sit up on the couch to go through a few more pages of the textbooks from school.

During the weekends, however, we normally sleep in late. Someone –usually me- gets up to draw back the curtains and open the window to ventilate the room. Katniss has quickly developed the habit of pressing her hand against mine, curling her fingers round to hold my hand, before pulling her hand away again. She'll happily do that for most of the morning, and I'm happy to let her. I get to watch the serene look on her face.

Before I got closer to her, I didn't know about many of the little habits and mannerisms she has. Like how she licks the knife, and eats any meat on her plate first, before starting on the rest of the meal. She rubs the bridge of her nose when she's angry, stressed, or tired. There's a freckle on her left eyelid, and a permanent line on her forehead from either scowling or squinting into the horizon, though it's most likely both. When she's about to cry, her nostrils flare and her eyes widen slightly. Her laughs are the best. She has many different types of laughs- reserved, polite laughs that she has for people like Delly, sarcastic chuckles that are so obviously fake that it's painful and full-on, belly laughs which come with snorting and croaking. I have yet to decide which laugh I like the best.

Katniss learns that I don't take sugar in my tea. That I like sleeping with the windows open (much to her disgruntlement). That I always double-knot my shoelaces (which she admits is a good idea). I learn that she likes to be kissed 'as if I wanted to be punched', but doesn't like it when I leave hickeys in places that are easily seen by the general public. I take great pride in finding places that are hidden under her clothes. She discovers that I like it when she gasps my name into my ear, and tugging my hair will reduce me to a mess. I don't what it is about her, exactly, that makes me want her. It's a mixture of things- flaws and all.

We head to town some days, either to help at the bakery or to simply get out and about. Katniss is adamant that being pregnant won't stop her from visiting the meadow and her family, even though it takes over half an hour to get to the Seam. It's steadily getting warmer, with the flora in full bloom, and baby birds arriving. More than once I've had to duck out of the way of blue tits and swallows that like to fly down the narrow alleyways. I spend a lot of time painting and sketching, filling my notebook with images of Katniss, flowers, birds, and, of course, the sun. Katniss has the idea for me to paint Prim's portrait for her birthday at the end of May, and buys a new canvas from the Hob for me to use.

Despite the apparently cheery outlook of our relationship, we do have blazing rows that end up with Katniss telling me to leave the house, or me sleeping on the couch. One of us always crawls back to the other, saying that they're sorry, and the argument is resolved on the same day. It's one of our arguments, however, that allows us to meet our next door neighbour for the first time. Neither of us have ever seen Twill in the district before, and she claims to have lived in the very corner of the Seam, but was moved here when her house was destroyed in the snow. She smiles and waves whenever we see her, but she tends to stay in her house, with the curtains drawn and the door locked. Odd behaviour, we both agree, but she's pleasant enough.

* * *

"Pass me the roller." I say, reaching my hand down. Katniss stretches up slightly and passes me the roller, which I use to cover a bigger area of the ceiling with paint. We've been repainting the kitchen. Despite the houses in this area being branded as 'new and family-friendly homes', we've found cracks in the walls and unfinished parts of the roof that have started to leak. I spent yesterday filling the cracks and today we're painting over the mess.

"I'm constantly on edge." Katniss whispers. I pause.

"What do you mean?"

"About everything. Not just the baby, or the exam. The thought of an... an..." She trails off. I look down at her and nod my head, understanding that she means uprising. "When I was at the bakery –_before_ I slapped your mother- there was a guy who came in. He knew my name, and said that I looked a little young to be married _and _pregnant."

"Well, you are only sixteen." I say. She bats my leg and rolls her eyes.

"He had a weird bracelet thingy on. It was reflective and really Capitol-looking," She frowns, deep in thought. "Do you think he was from the Capitol?"

"Maybe. Did you catch a name?"

"No. He ordered a load of sugar cookies though."

"Yes, because I can find out the name of a guy by simply knowing that he bought sugar cookies." I give her a pointed look.

"If you're going to be sarcastic all the time, I'm gonna knock you right off this ladder." She laughs.

"Okay, okay. I'm serious now," I say. "I think you just need to relax, Katniss. You've got everything happening at once, and I don't think you need to be worrying about all this as well."

"What are you suggesting?" Katniss scowls.

"That you take this week off school. Go in for the exam, but otherwise stay home and rest."

"No."

"Why not? Your Mom said it was a good idea." I add. Katniss sighs and flops down into a chair.

"Because the baby isn't due until next week, Peeta. I'm going to finish school. I'll bring the baby into school after they've been born if I really fucking have to," She rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs. "I've gone to that damned building almost every day since I was four, and I'm not going to bunk off at the very end."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "I'm sure they'll understand. It's not like we're not going to be allowed to graduate or anything. They can't stop you from graduating. And if they do, we've got a good excuse."

"Yeah, I was busy having a baby," Katniss scoffs. "What were you doing?"

"Dealing with a hormonal, scowling Seam girl."

"Oh, right. Because you've had such a hard time marrying the Seam slut who also happened to be the love of your life?" Katniss asks as I climb down the ladder. "Are you fucking with me right now?"

"I'd like to." I whisper. She bites her lip.

"Since when did you become an idiot?" She asks. "An idiot who talks dirty all the time."

"Don't pretend you don't like it." I say stepping closer and kissing her. She groans, biting down on my bottom lip.

"Finish painting, Peeta. I'm going to go look at the textbooks." She says, pressing her forehead against mine and smiling up at me before turning and walking out of the room.

* * *

The day of the exam arrives, and Katniss is plagued with Braxton Hicks. Repetitive and painful, they cause her to double over in pain each time, gritting her teeth and cursing.

"It's just nerves," She says dismissively, gripping her spoon tightly as she spoons cereal into her mouth. "Don't worry."

"You sure?" I ask, watching her jaw clenching as she sits opposite me.

"Yes."

"Are you going to be able to go through the exam?"

"I'll be fine, Peeta. Please stop worrying. You're making me anxious." She says, letting out a breath once the practice contraction has ended.

"Sorry," I say, taking a sip of my drink. Time to change the subject, apparently. "Are you looking forward to the graduation ball?"

"Ugh, no," She snorts. "It's gonna be awful. Effie'll be overly-excited, Haymitch'll be drunk, and everything will be too much to handle. The only perks I can think of are that I'll be able to drink by then."

"Your Mom and Prim will look after the baby, I'm sure."

"What about your Dad?"

"He's excited to have a grandchild, I know that for a fact, but I have a feeling that Mom won't be as accommodating." I shrug my shoulders.

"Wasn't just a few days ago when you said that you were thinking that she'd come around?" Katniss asks, pushing her bowl away and rubbing her eyes. "What happened to that idea?"

"It's still there, believe me, but every time I think of what she did to us, I begin to rethink everything."

"The last thing your mother is going to do is treat you, Fen, Rye or our baby like she did when you were younger," Katniss says, her eyes determined. "I won't let her, you won't let her, and I'm sure that there would be a part of her blackened soul that would stop her as well."

"Blackened soul?" I ask.

"I'm feeling poetical," She rolls her eyes. I smile slightly, but my mind is occupied. Katniss slides her hand over mine. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"What is the baby going to think?" I ask. "When they see all my scars?" I look up and Katniss' expression softens.

"The baby is going to think that you're an amazing father, Peeta. They're not going to care."

"No, I mean when they're old enough to ask questions and expect logical and truthful answers."

"What are you afraid of? Answering questions or questions being asked?" She says. I shrug my shoulders. "Because I'm sure that you'll come up with a good answer. And, if he or she is anything like you, they'll understand enough to not push the subject further until _you're_ ready."

"I hope he's like you, Katniss."

"No, no. That would be a nightmare." Katniss shakes her head.

"It would be a dream. A miniature you."

"Gross. I'd rather have a miniature Peeta Mellark with endless blue eyes and golden hair and a winning smile, instead of a scowling, anti-social mess like myself."

"Even the scowling, anti-social messes fall in love." I tease. She purses her lips.

"Yes, but they tend to get pregnant after a drunken bedding as well."

"If he or she gets pregnant or gets someone pregnant, I'm to kill them. They should be able to look at us and decide to not copy."

"But we're the perfect couple," She jokes with a large smile. "What's wrong with us?"

* * *

The walk to school is tense. Prim catches up with us and we walk together, happily letting the youngest Everdeen's chatter fill up the silence we both previously held.

"Mom says good luck to both of you." She says, swinging her arms.

"Thanks." Katniss nods.

"How excited are you about the baby arriving next week?" Prim asks, her cheeks flushed as she walks backwards in front of us.

"Terrified." Katniss grumbles.

"Same here." I agree.

"Come on, you must be at least a little keyed up. You're going to be parents; I'm going to be an Aunt!" She grins and twirls the end of one of her braids around her finger. "I never thought I was going to be an Aunt!"

"What are you trying to say, Primrose?" Katniss asks suspiciously. Prim grins.

"I think we all know what she's trying to say." I say. Katniss punches my side.

"I assumed that you were never going to have children. You always talked about how it was important to have a secure home, income, food source and relationship before you had children, and that you doubted that would ever happen, therefore meaning that you were never having kids," Prim explains. "Come to think of it, I didn't even think you'd get married."

"What are you talking about?" Katniss asks. "I was going to grow old with Gale."

"But not married."

"Is being married so very necessary?"

"No..."

"See. I would've been perfectly happy on my own. Besides, if Gale and I got married, it would've been weird for you to marry Rory." At this Prim blushes, her skin reddening like a tomato.

"Rory?" I ask curiously.

"Yup," Katniss says, smiling slyly at her sister. "Rory and Prim have been dodging around each other for at least two years."

"_Katniss!" _Prim hisses. "You promised you'd never say that!"

"Prim, I knew about you and Rory's relationship long ago." I say. Prim's head snaps up and she locks eyes with me.

"How?" She asks, glancing at Katniss accusingly.

"Right at the start of all this, I bumped into Rory and he talked about you. Katniss talked about you and Rory. It wasn't exactly a secret." Prim huffs and shoves Katniss lightly before storming off ahead of us, her braids whacking her in the face.

"Oh, well done Peeta. Now she hates me." Katniss says, flicking my ear.

"She doesn't hate you." I shake my head.

"I do!" Prim calls back. I burst out laughing, drawing the attention of a load of people outside the grocer's, and Katniss sighs dramatically, leaning heavily on my side for the duration of the walk.

* * *

The first two lessons of the day are as normal, but all we do is watch new propo films from the Capitol. Everyone sits where they want, pulling desks together to sit in groups, but Katniss and I sit at the back, leaning our chairs back against the wall. I stare blankly at the television screen, watching images of the Capitol sweep past, the voiceover that talks about how beautiful the Capitol is, about what a feint it is, about how we should all be looking up to them. It then cuts to images of honestly looks like a war ground, with smoking debris, dead in the streets, injured staggering about, and orphaned children clutching teddy bears. _'This isn't the future. This isn't what you want. Capitol knows best.' _The commentator says, their words fading out into dramatic music.

"It's all a load of bull," Katniss murmurs from beside me. "Every last second of it."

"But they're new propos. Maybe they've heard about what's going on around them." I reply. Katniss raises her eyebrows.

"The Capitol isn't stupid, but it isn't particularly smart either. Whoever's behind this new load of propaganda knows what they're doing. But I think it's just going to make anyone who is thinking of... you know..." She pauses. We don't know if the school is bugged, but we assume it is. "They're just going to laugh. This means that President Snow knows. That he's trying to build up those who are on his side."

"I've never seen the president in real life," I say. "Only on TV."

"He's horrible."

"All white hair and waxy skin and those horrible red lips," I say. "Capitol fashions are horrendous as they are, but that's just ridiculous."

"Oh, I don't know. I think you'd look pretty good with a tail. Or a beak, maybe? But blue skin would make your eyes pop." She retorts, mimicking the strained accent that Capitolites possess.

"Katniss, my dear. Don't you think sharpened teeth, wings, or a third leg would make you so much more beautiful?" I reply in the same accent. Katniss snorts loudly, and half the class turns to stare at us as we cackle under our breaths.

"Mellarks! Stop messing around!" The teacher snaps. Katniss looks up at me at smiles.

"That's the first time any of the teachers have called me a Mellark." She states.

"You're one of us now, Katniss. And they're no way of escaping," I say, tugging on her braid. She buries her face into my chest and groans. I rub her back soothingly. "It's not that bad. Just don't mess Fen around if he's lost at something, and don't annoy Rye in the mornings," Katniss just groans in response, and grasps my t-shirt in her fist. "Are you okay?" I ask her.

"_Fuck,_" Katniss hisses, squeezing her eyes shut. "If these are just practise contractions, I don't think I wanna know what the real deal is like."

"You can crush my hand if you want." I offer, holding out my hand. Katniss sits up and inhales sharply, gripping my hand tightly. I let her power through it alone, staying silent, flexing my fingers when she lets go.

"Thanks," She says, rubbing the top of her belly. "And sorry for squishing your hand."

"It's okay," I say, rubbing my knuckles. "It's only fair. I'm sorry for putting you through this."

"I've suffered through worse." She shrugs.

"Remember that when the baby starts to arrive and you're cursing me."

"Remember that it's your fault for knocking me up when I'm cursing you." Katniss smiles sweetly. I kiss the tip of her nose and hug her to my side. I don't miss the muttered _'men get it so easy' _from beside me.

* * *

After break, everyone in our year is ushered onto the playfield, where everyone crowds onto the bleachers as half of the facility shoot daggers at the back of Effie's head.

"All I can ask of you is that you try your best. No one can have any regrets if they try their best, can they?" The woman warbles on. I'm barely listening- too mesmerised with her cobalt shoes, which appear to have tiny fish tanks complete with live fish, in the transparent heels. "As always, it's ladies first. Once they've completed their exam, they will go to lunch and the gentlemen will go into the hall."

"Let me remind you that any forms of cheating will result in immediate disqualification," Haymitch speaks up. "That included writing notes on the bottoms of shoes, and water bottles, notes hidden inside empty pens, and note passing." He says, fixing several people with pointed stares.

"Good luck to all, and I look forward to seeing the surely fantastic results in June!" Effie claps her hands, looking around at her colleagues expectantly until they start clapping as well, and then at the audience gathered in front of her. At precisely quarter past eleven (Effie makes sure everyone's punctual), the girls are asked to make their way to the hall. I give my wife a hug, whispering good luck into her ear. She kisses me and smoothes back my hair before turning, calling over her shoulder that she'll see me later. Madge and Delly catch up with her, and I watch her hands curling into fists when Delly squeals excitedly beside her.

* * *

-Katniss-

"I swear, I was going to pass out this morning," Delly grins. "I'm really anxious."

"Don't be, Delly. You've revised the entire textbook cover-to-cover, and you always do well in exams." Madge says encouragingly. I stay silent.

"How about you, Katniss?" Delly asks me. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," I shrug my shoulders. "But I'm a little distracted."

"What's wrong?" Madge queries.

"Just stuff... about the baby," I say. Delly's eyes bug out and she nods. "He keeps moving around... and I keep having hicks. I hurts a lot, and I'm just hoping that I don't have one in the middle of the exam."

"Why don't you ask to have the exam in another room?" Madge says. "That way, if you did have another..."

"Braxton Hicks, that's what they called," Delly speaks up. "They're practice contractions."

"Yeah, if you did have another at least you wouldn't be thrown out for distracting people." Madge says, squeezing my arm consolingly.

"This is weird." I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"What is?"

"All _this. _I'm walking into my exam talking about my _baby _for Christ's sake." I say, causing both Madge and Delly to laugh.

Once we've found out assigned seats and have been given the thick paper booklets, we're instructed by the official examiners to write our name into the boxes provided.

"As I'm sure you've already been told, but cheating will not be tolerated." One of the examiners croaks from the front of the hall. He looks like he's about to keel over and die. In fact, all of them do. He continues to rattle on about rules and regulations, about what to do if our pen runs out or if we don't understand something, and by the time he finally says we may start the test, I'm almost half asleep. Flipping open the first page, I sigh at the first question, wishing that I could just bang my head on the desk repetitively until I pass out.

Fortunately for me, I don't get any super-painful contractions throughout the two-hour duration of the exam. Several times I can feel what feels like millions of butterflies in my stomach, but it's nothing that I can't just grit my teeth through.

"Miss, do I need to remind you that this is a _very _important exam, and we do not take kindly to those who are intent on disturbing others." An old lady says, looming over me.

"I'm sorry." I say through gritted teeth, rubbing my stomach, trying to massage away the pain. The examiner's eyes widen as she notices my stomach, and she straightens up, her cheeks reddening.

"No matter," She sniffs. "Continue."

The test ends after two hours of silence, ridiculous questions, and stupid answers. We file out through the girl's locker room as the boys enter the exam hall, and I don't get to see Peeta. Madge, Delly and I sit outside for lunch, under an apple tree. Prim comes and talks to me about the exam, and for the next hour I actually have a nice time. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and there's a whole weight off my chest now that I've done the exam. All this time spent in class, learning useless information, all this time spent revising. It's all over now. I can finally relax.

"I'll see you later, Katniss." Prim says, giving me a hug.

"Peeta and I'll visit over the weekend maybe." I say. Prim nods and smiles, before leaving for the rest of her lessons.

"Peeta and I?" Madge asks. Delly sighs longingly beside her.

"What?"

"It's adorable. He's loved you for years, Katniss. And you make him so happy," Delly says. "After everything he's been through, it's good that he's got someone like you."

My cheeks flush involuntarily and I look down, smiling slightly, ignoring the tugging at the base of my stomach. "Thanks."

"Madge, can you remember when we were about thirteen, and Peeta came over to mine all upset because he was convinced that Katniss was going to marry Gale?" Delly continues. Madge nods.

"I don't believe you." I scowl, rubbing my belly for what feels like the hundredth time in the last few hours.

"It's true, believe me," Madge says enthusiastically, her eyes shining. "He ranted for a good hour about how unfair everything was. It was the most adorable thing."

"We didn't help the matter, did we?" Delly laughs. "All we did was giggle."

"True, we were shitty friends, but he really cares about you," Madge continues, laying a hand on my arm. "Come to think of it, he painted you as an entry to the talent show we had several years back."

"Shut up. He did not."

"He did!"

"Then how come I didn't see it?" I retort.

"Because he never actually entered it, Katniss. He kept it locked away and entered the painting of the Lomenzo twins."

"Seriously?" I ask, raising an eyebrow."

"Yup. I've seen it." Delly smiles at me. I shake my head and pull at the grass beside me. Madge and Delly both begin to laugh, and I find myself laughing along with them, the happy feeling bubbling through me.

"Don't make me laugh, guys. I'm an emotional, unstable wreck right now. You don't want my water to break," I joke. Delly snorts slightly, clapping her hand over her nose in mortification. This only makes us laugh harder.

And then it happens.

My joke becomes a reality, and I feel liquid run down my legs.

My smile disappears and my hands grasp at my stomach in shock. No. Not now. _Please_ _not now_. It's too early. "_Fuck." _I whisper, looking up at Madge with wide eyes.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Madge says, her laughter slowing when she notices my expression. "What's wrong?"

"My water actually broke." I whisper, not believing it myself.

"_What?!" _My friend cries, leaping up from the ground.

"Oh my God! The baby's coming!" I exclaim, using the tree behind me to help myself up.

"Shit it is!" Delly squeals, pointing at the dark patch on the skirt of my dress.

"What do we do?" I ask, my heart racing. If this wasn't so serious, I would laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. We've just come out of an exam about pregnancy and children and the whole shebang, and we're freaking out over what to do when an actual real-life baby decides to make its arrival a whole week and a half early.

"Are you in any pain?" Madge asks.

"Not yet!"

"You should go home. Let's take you home." She says, grabbing my bag and walking me forward.

"No, wait, I need Peeta!" I say, my words taking on a panicky tone.

"Don't worry," Delly says. "I'll get Peeta and tell him what's happening!"

"But he's in an exam!" I say. Delly gives the best bitch face ever.

"Fuck the exam! You're having his baby!" She snaps. Madge gives me an amused look as Delly turns and hurries towards the school steps, her brassy hair swinging behind her. I take deep breaths to calm myself as we walk out of the school gates, ignoring the stares of various townies that we pass, and telling Madge that I can walk by myself.

_I'm having Peeta Mellark's baby._

* * *

-Peeta-

Everything is silent in the hall, except for the sound of pens and pencils against paper, and people cursing under their breath as they try to think of an answer. I'm just over halfway through the paper, finishing a long-winded explanation of the importance of giving a child basic education, when the door leading to the girl's locker room slams open, disrupting the silence and causing half the students in the room to jump. It's Delly, looking slightly panicky, but at the same time very excited. I wonder what's going on, and watch along with the rest of the people around me as she runs down the length of the hall to the examiners.

"Miss, what the hell are you doing?" One of them asks Delly, putting their hands on their hips. Delly says something to them, moving her hands wildly, and the person freezes.

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes!" Delly exclaims loudly, her cheeks tinged red.

"Okay, thank you," The examiner says, grabbing a clipboard of our names and desk numbers. "Where is Peeta Mellark?" He asks, looking up. I blink. _What?_

"I'm Peeta Mellark." I offer, waving my hand in the air.

"Mr Mellark, you need to come with us. Everyone else, continue with the exam please." The examiner says, stepping forward. I stand from my seat in bewilderment. What the fuck is going on?

"What's going on?" I ask. The examiner shakes his head.

"I'll tell you outside." He says. Delly throws her hands into the air and rolls her eyes.

"Jesus Christ!" She says, causing the examiner to glare at her. "Peeta, get the hell out of here! Katniss has gone into labour!"

"What?!" I exclaim, my eyes widening. Katniss isn't due for another week and a half. This can't be happening.

"She's on her way to your place right now!" Delly says, yanking me by the arm to the locker rooms.

"Go Mellark!" Mitch shouts out from his place at the front of the hall. Several other people hoot and laugh as I'm dragged from the room, looking undoubtedly like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Delly practically shoves me through the door the girl's locker room, rushing in after me.

"When did this happen?" I ask as we run, our shoes squeaking over the newly cleaned hallway floors. The janitor shouts at us as we skid over the still-wet floor that he's just cleaned, and we yell our apologies as we round the corner.

_Katniss is having the baby._

"About ten minutes ago! We were sitting outside laughing and then she freaked out and said that her water had broken." Delly gasps for breath as she runs alongside me. Delly Cartwright is one of the fastest girls in the school, coming second probably to Katniss. It surprised everyone, I think, when the girl who always wore pretty dresses and shiny patent shoes and had (as Denny Small likes to put it) '_more junk in the trunk that those Capitol chicks_', could outrun the vast majority of the male students at the school.

"How much pain is she in?" I ask, my pulse spiking at the thought of her being in so much pain.

"She said she was fine when I left."

"Who's with her?"

"Madge."

"Holy shit I'm going to be a father." I exclaim. Delly laughs despite herself.

"You knew that months ago, idiot." Our feet slap almost painfully against the cobbles underfoot as we race through town, dodging people and stalls, almost crashing into buildings as we skid around corners. By the time I reach our house, I'm out of breath and my head is pounding.

"Katniss?" I yell, flying up the stairs and bursting into our bedroom. Katniss glances at me and smiles. Madge lets out a sigh of relief as she continues stripping the bed of its sheets.

"Hey," Katniss says, seemingly calm as she paces up and down the end of the bed. Her eyes tell a different story, however, and are wide and scared. "Sorry about disturbing your exam."

"I've just run through town to get here because you've gone into labour, and the only thing you say to me is '_hey'_?" I ask, gasping for air, bracing my hands on my knees.

"I figured it was better than screaming at you." Katniss offers me a weak smile.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, stepping forward and rubbing her shoulders.

"Just peachy, really," She says, scrunching her face up in evident pain. "But I need Mom. And Prim."

"I'll go and get your mother." Madge says. Katniss nods, tilting her head back and gritting her teeth.

"Delly? Can you get my Dad? And Prim?" I ask. Delly nods, squeezes my arm, and ducks out of the room, followed by Madge.

"When did you get here?" I ask Katniss, running my hands through my hair.

"About five minutes ago," She says, turning and resting her forehead on my chest. "Shit, Peeta. This is actually happening."

"And you said that it was safe to go to school." I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. I can feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves.

"Shut up." She grins.

"Do you wanna change into something more comfortable?" I ask, wrapping my arms around her consolingly.

"In a minute, let me just stand still for a minute. This helps." She says, her hands fisting my shirt. I rub her lower back and she groans, causing me to remove my hands.

"Sorry." I mumble. She looks up at me and shakes her head, her hair falling into her eyes.

"No, it felt good. Keep going." She puts her arms around my neck and shifts her weight from one foot to the other as I massage at her lower back. We're quiet for a long time, and I try to organize my head, putting everything into lists. I need to get Katniss into comfy clothes. Maybe a wet rag for her head? Or something to eat? To drink? I swallow and try to stay calm. Of course, any ideas of keeping a clear mind disappear when a pained cry escapes Katniss' throat, and she yanks on my hair, pulling most of it out. My hands still on her lower back. I can feel her muscles tensing beneath her skin, and I let her pull on my hair until the pain is gone.

"I'm sorry Kat," I say softly. "This is my fault that you're going through this."

"Well, this was inevitable, really, wasn't it?" She says, straightening up and pacing again.

"I know... but..."

"Just get me out of this dress. It's gross and soaked." Katniss grumbles. I move to the wardrobe and pull out one of my soft shirts, the material worn from years of use, and a pair of Katniss' beloved sweat pants.

"These okay?" I ask her. She nods, unbuttoning the clasp at the top of her dress and pulling it over her head. I help her into the shirt and the pants, and she tugs the shirt back up to reveal her stomach.

"Feel it," She instructs, grabbing my hands and pressing them against my stomach, her eyes wide. "It's gone all hard."

"Gross," I say. Katniss clear her throat. I look up. "Oh, I mean, beautiful. Lovely." I say.

"No, you're right, it is gross." She says flippantly.

"You're remarkably calm, Kat," I observe. "You can hit me and scream at me if you want. We already agreed on this." She chuckles, returning to pacing.

"Don't think that I'm going to be happy throughout this whole thing. I'm going to kill you in a few hours, and then you're gonna wish you never agreed to anything."

Mrs Everdeen arrives ten minutes later, carrying a different medical bag and an excited yet reserved expression. Prim is next to arrive, and she squeals at the sight of Katniss. Her older sister just scowls at the noise. I think she's had enough of Delly's squealing. Delly and Madge say that they'll be back later tonight and leave promptly, and Mrs Everdeen effectively banishes me from the room, claiming that my worrying is driving her crazy. Prim joins me in the kitchen, making me a cup of tea and forcing me to sit down and calm down.

"She's okay, Peeta. Stop panicking."

"I can't stop panicking. She's having a baby for Christ's sake." I say, staring at the cup in front me, my leg bouncing under the table.

"Women have babies all the time, Peeta. It's like a sixth sense to us, really. And Mom's been through more deliveries than she can count on both hands and feet. She knows what she's doing."

"What about Katniss?" I ask. "The textbooks said that there was a risk of a whole tonne of things going wrong the younger the person was."

"And the textbook was right," Prim says calmly, sitting opposite me. I can't help but stare in wonder at the twelve-year-old, who is wiser beyond her years. "The younger or older the woman is, the more risks there are. But Katniss is healthy and strong. She hasn't had any problems with the pregnancy, has she?"

"No... but-"

"But nothing! She's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. And at the end of all this, you'll have a little human being to hold and call your son or daughter." I pause, sipping my drink slowly, letting this information sink in. It isn't like I don't know this. I've imagined what it's going to be like to hold my child in my arms, but it hasn't really sunk in until now.

"Can we talk about something else? Get my mind off this for a little while?" I ask. Prim nods.

"Of course. Where is your father?"

"Delly went to get him."

"That explains why she ran off after yanking me out of class." Prim says.

"He's going to have an aneurysm," I mutter. "Both my parents are."

"Are they ready to be grandparents?" Prim asks, taking a sip of her tea.

"I don't know," I reply. "To be honest, I haven't really talked about it with them."

"Okay... what about Fenton and Rye? I bet you're thrilled to have such outstanding role models as the uncles of your child."

"Oh, God," I say, holding my head in my hands. "They're going to be awful." Prim laughs, but the sound is cut off at the sound of Katniss yelling upstairs. I tense, ready to jump out of my chair.

"Stay where you are, Mellark." Prim warns.

"She needs me."

"She'll need you in the next few hours," The youngest Everdeen advises. "Not right now, I'm sure."

"Prim..."

"Peeta..." Prim mimics my tone. The door crashes open and I hear the sound of Dad's uneven steps thudding down the hallway.

"Peet?" He calls.

"In here!" I shout back. Dad bursts into the kitchen looking flustered, and envelopes me in a bear-hug, patting my back.

"How is she?" He asks, pulling away and placing his hands on my shoulders.

"She's fine," Prim interjects, shooting me a look. "I had to drag Peeta down here before his head was ripped off, though."

"By who?"

"Mom and Katniss." Dad laughs, smiling reassuringly at me.

"Your mother is coming later on, when she closes the bakery. Fen and Rye'll get here eventually," He says. "How are _you _feeling?"

"Terrified," I say shakily. "I wasn't expecting this."

"None of us were, son. Trust me."

* * *

Five hours later, Katniss is crushing my hand, her toes curling on the mattress as another contraction rips through her. I've been rushing around the last two hours, fetching cold water, rags, towels, pillows, and I even dragged a canvas in here to fan Katniss with.

"I fucking _hate _you!" She screams at me, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I know you do." I say, smoothing her hair from her sweaty forehead. She groans, letting out a pained sob.

"Mom, I can't do this." She says, looking down the bed at her mother, who's sitting calmly in a chair I bought up half an hour ago. Prim is downstairs, trying to help my brothers remove my father from the building.

"Yes, you can." Mrs Everdeen says.

"No I can't!" Katniss wails, shifting upwards , gasping in pain. "It shouldn't be hurting this much! Why is hurting so much?!"

"It's not much longer, dear. The contractions are getting closer together now," She pauses, standing from the chair. "Let me just check..." She says, moving down to the end of the bed. I avert my gaze as Mrs Everdeen instructs her daughter on what to do, where to place her legs, and barely masks her surprised expression.

"What is it?" I ask frantically.

"I can see the head," She announces. "You've been pushing all this time, Katniss. That's why it's been hurting."

"What?!" Katniss screeches, gritting her teeth.

"Okay, take deep breaths," Mrs Everdeen instructs. "Peeta, help her to breath slowly." I nod and turn to Katniss, taking her hand in mine and telling her to breath in and out, in and out.

"You can do this." I say.

"I can't, Peeta. I can't. I'm so tired." Katniss says, shaking her head lazily.

"I know you're tired, but you've got to push now, honey." Katniss' mother says sympathetically.

"I can't."

"Yes you can," I say determinedly. "Hold onto my hand, shout at me all you like." Katniss grits her teeth and another pained cry escapes her lips. It takes fifteen minutes of Katniss cursing like a sailor and squeezing my hand so tightly that my fingers turn blue, Mrs Everdeen's encouragement and me freaking out before Katniss inhales sharply and pushes, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Well done." Mrs Everdeen says, working vigilantly.

"You did it," I say, wiping at the tears on my wife's cheeks. "You did it Katniss."

"I did it." She breathes, laughing shakily. A warbling cry fills the room and my head snaps up as Mrs Everdeen moves forward to lay a swaddled, tiny, bright-pink, squirming baby onto her daughter's chest.

"Congratulations, you have a daughter." She says softly, patting my on the back before moving back to the end of the bed.

"Peeta, look at her," Katniss sobs, unable to look away from the baby. Our baby. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She's amazing," I breath, touching the tips of my fingers to the baby's head. "You're amazing."

"What shall we call her?" Katniss asks, still crying.

"I don't mind. What do you think?"

"Melanie... I like Melanie." Katniss whispers.

"Hello, Melanie Mellark. We love you." I say. Melanie coos softly, opening her eyes and blinking, staring first at Katniss and then at me. Her eyes are shockingly blue, though the fine dusting of hair on her head is just like Katniss'.

"You want to hold her?" Katniss asks, looking up at me.

"I'll hurt her." I say, looking down at the fragile human.

"No you won't." Katniss says. She reaches up to hand the child to me, and I tuck her into the crook of my arm, watching in wonder as she stares at me with wide eyes, curling her chubby little hand around my pinky finger.

"You're perfect." I say, kissing her soft skin.

"She's so small." Katniss says. I look down at my wife and smile, leaning down to kiss her, feeling her tears of joy against my face.

"What were you shouting about then?"

* * *

Katniss is cleaned up by her mother and laden down with blankets before Prim brings up my parents. Dad bursts into tears at the sight of his grandchild, and I even see Mom wiping fiercely at her eyes, before I step forward and hug her.

"You did a good job, Peeta." She mumbles into my ear.

"Thanks, Mom." I say, pulling away and smiling. Fen and Rye come up next, and they tackle me the minute they're through the door. Prim has a massive smile that stretches from ear-to-ear as she gazes at her sister's daughter. Mitch, Madge and Delly arrive with flowers and toys, and I have to pass Delly tissue after tissue to mop up the waterfall of tears. Madge holds Melanie gently, laughing quietly with Katniss, and Mitch claps me on the shoulder.

"You did good bro." He says.

"Thanks, I needed your approval." I laugh. He rolls his eyes and punches my shoulder.

* * *

Hours later, when everyone has left and everything has calmed down a little, I lock the front door and lay with Katniss and my daughter. Katniss hesitantly feeds her for the first time, crying out in joy when she finally latches on and begins to drink. She falls asleep, exhausted, twenty minutes later, so I pull the covers over her shoulder and sit with Melanie by the for downstairs, staring at her sleeping form, revelling at just how tiny and perfect she is.

For tonight, I can forget about school, money, and a possible rebellion.

All I want to think about it Katniss and Melanie, the two most important people in my life.


	46. Chapter 46: End

***The M rating comes into play in the chapter***

**I can't believe this is the _last _chapter of The Baby Games! I want to take a moment to thank all of you who have reviewed, favourited, followed and simply read my story! ;) I didn't expect such an amazing response, and I've enjoyed reading every single one of your reviews, so thank you.**

**For those of you who are waiting for me to actually update _One Wish, _I'm afraid you're going to have to wait for quite a while longer than you already have. I've written the first section, but I'm not happy with where it is going at the moment, so I'm going to put _One Wish _aside for now, and start on another story I've been itching to publish! Visit me on tumblr at _writingforhugs dot tumblr dot com _**

**Onwards, my trusty readers, and thank you :)**

* * *

**-Katniss-**

Life with Melanie is tiring, though we expected that much. She's a happy baby, always smiling, and she usually manages to sleep for most of the night, but it's the day time when she's a full-blown bundle of energy. You can't close your eyes for ten seconds before she's halfway across the room or heading for the staircase. She likes to watch her father in the kitchen, but has a habit of tipping the flour over and creating a mess (much to my amusement and Peeta's grumbling).

The first time I went back into the forest, I felt like crying. My stomach was still slightly rounded, but it was out of the way enough so that I could fire arrows and climb trees and jump from high spots without having to worry about injuring myself or the baby by landing funny. It was as if I was a bird, freed from its cage. I spent the entire day in the forest, simply basking in the warm heat. I brought home enough food to last us for several weeks in advance. We found that Melanie loved being outside, and in the summer after she was born, Peeta and I would lie outside in the backyard, in the grass, with our eyes fixed on our daughter as she rolled about on her blanket. She would eat the grass, the dirt, the leaves, and the flowers.

Peeta takes Melanie into town all the time, eager to show her off to everyone and anyone. Mom and Prim come to visit most weekends, and Prim is happy to babysit when we want days off. Peeta's father cries the first few times he visits, and I'm surprised when Mrs Mellark comes round with her husband, carrying a box of old baby clothes.

"They were never going to be used." She shrugs her shoulders, sliding the box over the table towards me. Anyone can see that she cares about Melanie. Peeta tells me that she's just glad to have a girl to dote after. One day, when Peeta is out with old wrestling buddies from school, I hitch Melanie onto my hip and walk through the town to the bakery. It's a hot day, the sun shining down, and Melanie keeps pulling her blue flowery hat from her head. Just like I used to when I was a kid.

"Melly, you have to wear the hat." I tell her, putting the hat back on her head. Her hair is growing in unruly dark curls, just like mine did. She simply coos in response, smiling her baby-toothed smile. Once we reach the bakery, I ignore the stares from other townies. It's still weird, apparently, to see a Seam girl with a Merchant's baby. However, when I turn around to glare at those behind me, I'm met with soft smiles instead.

"She's beautiful. You're very lucky." One of them says.

"I know," I say, looking at my daughter, who's chewing on my braid. Pride swells in my chest. "Thank you." It's times like these, the precious, under-a-minute moments that restore my faith in humanity- or at least some of it.

"Hey Kat, Melly," Rye smiles once we reach the counter. "The usual?"

"Please." I nod, setting Melanie down on the counter to give my arms a break.

"We've just run out of corn bread, I'll go get some more." Rye says, fondly tapping Melanie's nose and disappearing into the kitchen. Mrs Mellark appears a few moments later, manning the till. Melanie stares at her grandmother, and it takes a minute for me to realise what exactly has got her attention. Resting on Mrs Mellark's chest is a glittering necklace, the chain decorated with various tiny crystals, and the pendant in the middle an amber sphere with a flower in the middle. I remember Madge telling me about the bugs that sometimes got caught in tree sap, and wonder if this is what happened to the flower.

"Melly likes your necklace," I speak up, motioning to the baby between us. "It's very beautiful."

"Thank you," Mrs Mellark says, tilting her chin down to look at the piece of jewellery. "Farrell bought it for me many years ago." I nod in understanding and stand to the side so another customer can buy what they're looking for. There's a lull in customers, leaving me, Melly and Peeta's mother standing in awkward silence. Mrs Mellark raps her knuckles on the countertop and Melanie glances from her hand to her face curiously.

"She has your hair." She says, reaching a bony hand forward and running it through the thin locks on Melanie's head.

"But Peeta's eyes."

"Who is she most like?" Mrs Mellark asks, pulling a piece of thread from Melanie's shoulder.

"You can hold her, if you want," I say, lifting Melanie up. Mrs Mellark hesitates for a second, and then takes Melanie into her arms, cupping the back of her head with one hand and smiling softly. "She's like me," I say. "Bossy, stubborn, and loves being outside."

"Peeta must be disappointed."

"Not really. I don't think he minds that much, but it's when she knocks over flour that he gets annoyed."

"Peeta has always been a baker. From the day he was born," She muses, a serene look overtaking her usually sour expression. "Had –well, has- an awful sweet tooth. Such a chubby baby as well."

"He spoils Melanie." I nod my head.

"I'm not surprised. He takes after his father."

"I know."

"Do all the clothes I sent fit her?"

"Yes, thank you," I tug at my own shirt. It still feels weird (four months on) to look down and see a relatively flat stomach. I'm working on getting myself back into shape, though it won't the amount of exercise I get most days in the woods, though Peeta says that it's nice to see a fullness in my cheeks, and to not be able to outline every rib under my skin. I snort and roll my eyes whenever he says this, because I know that those reasons aren't the _only _reasons. I know that he likes that my breasts are bigger now, especially since getting pregnant and feeding Melanie. "The little pink booties-"

"The ones with the daisies on the buckles?"

"Yes, those, they're a perfect fit on her."

"I'm glad," Mrs Mellark smiles, pulling a face. Melly giggles, revealing her swollen gums. She's teething now, constantly chewing on her fingers to find some relief. "At least they're being used now instead of sitting in a closet all day." Rye comes back then, apologising for the wait, and bags my usual order.

"Can I have some gingerbread cookies as well?" I ask, rooting in the satchel at my hip and pulling out some coins.

"You're family Katniss, you don't need to pay." Rye says, shaking his head.

"I'm paying whether you like it or not. It's still a novelty to me." I reply, pressing the coins into his hand. Rye rolls his eyes but puts the money into the cash register anyway.

"Where's Melanie gone?" He asks. I tilt my head towards his mother, who's moved to the window so Melanie can look outside. "Seriously? You let her hold your daughter?"

"Come off it, she isn't that bad. And it isn't like she's going to harm the only girl in the family."

"You're a girl."

"Shut up, Rye. I'm your sister now. I can beat you up if I want." I say. Rye raises an eyebrow.

"Who's the wrestling champion here?" He asks, leaning forward over the counter. I stand my ground, arms folded over my chest.

"I take down stag and wolves."

"Don't get big-headed." Rye chuckles, moving back and pulling a damp rag over the countertop.

* * *

As the following year stretches on, Peeta and I are too preoccupied with Melanie's first steps, first word (which, regrettably, is 'Dada'), and other parts of the little girl to have much interest in the uprising. It takes a seat on the back burner for most of the time. By the second year since Melanie's birth, I've almost completely forgotten about it. Nothing seems to be progressing, so I settle down at ignore everything, focusing completely on Melanie. It stays that way for a long time.

And then the Lomenzo twins vanish.

Trace and Trenton Lomenzo are last seen walking down one of the backstreets on their way back home. Their parents raised the alarm when they never returned. After the entire district was searched- buildings turned inside out- in a desperate effort to find the lost boys. No-one has seen them since, and no-one has any idea of how or why they had vanished. This, of course, brought up the disappearance of the Hawthornes back into main focus.

"Despite everything, I wish Gale was here," I say to Peeta one night. He's bent over the side of Melanie's crib, watching his daughter slowly drift off to sleep. "And Hazel. And Vick, Rory and Posy. I would've loved them to have met Melanie."

"I know. But we'll see them again someday." Peeta reassures me, holding out a hand for me to take.

"I miss my best friend." I whisper, thinking of the lonely hunting trips in the woods. All the times I needed him to just hold something for me while I set a snare. Or help me carry a heavy kill back home. Or to simply be there as a comforting ever-present company.

"I know you do." He replies, his eyes sad yet hopeful. I look down at sweet, care-free Melanie. It's a battle between my heart and head; deciding on whether a rebellion would be better or not.

* * *

Melanie is four and a half months old when Peeta and I take her, a bag containing some clothes, and a few of her toys over to my old house.

"Are you sure it isn't too much of an inconvenience?" I ask, handing Mom the bag. Peeta is rocking his daughter against his chest, murmuring softly. Although he was the one to suggest giving ourselves a night off, he's finding saying goodbye to his baby very difficult. He held Melanie the entire way here as well.

"Melanie is my granddaughter, Katniss. It will never be an inconvenience," Mom says, patting my arm. "Besides, both you and Peeta look a little bedraggled. Don't forget that you're only seventeen. It'll be good for you to have a rest."

"Thank you," I say. Mom simply nods in understanding. I turn to Peeta, who presses a kiss against Melly's forehead before handing her over to me. "See you tomorrow," I murmur, rocking the baby back and forth in my arms. "Be nice to Grandma and Aunty Prim." Melanie pats my cheek with one chubby hand and coos softly. Once we've said our goodbyes, Peeta and I head out from the house. Mom and Prim stand on the porch, and my sister takes Melanie's hand, making her wave to us. Peeta and I head to the Hob, where Ripper sells us an unmarked bottle of amber liquor, claiming that it's the 'best in the district'. After that we head home and make a small dinner of toasted bread and stew.

"It's so quiet without Melanie." Peeta whispers, breaking the companionable silence we held.

"I know," I say, smiling softly up at him. "But she's in safe hands with Mom and Prim. And she's be back tomorrow afternoon."

"Don't you think it's funny though?"

"Don't I think what's funny?" I ask.

"How quickly we've become used to having Melanie in the house, always making noise?" Peeta grins. "It's weird."

"I know," I nod my head, looking down at my bowl. "I keep waiting for the sound of her crying... or laughing..."

"I bet she's being a nightmare over at your place." Peeta chuckles.

"Probably." I agree, taking a sip of the liquor we bought. The bottle is half gone already. I'm definitely beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol- it's stronger than Ripper said it was. From the glazed look in my husband's eyes, and the red flush that's slowly worked it's way over his cheeks, I can tell that he's drunk as well. He continues to chat about how strange it was to be the only married guy –who was also a father- in his wrestling group. He talks about the little kid that always mucks up the glass display case in the bakery. He talks about Melanie the most. I watch him as he talks, noticing the way his eyes light up. He really does love his daughter, more than anything. I'm so deep in thought that I don't hear him stand, or see him take my bowl and his to the sink. It's only when he begins to massage my shoulders that I come back to myself, leaning back into his hands with a groan.

"You know, it's been months since we've had night alone." He murmurs. I smile mischievously.

"What are you suggesting?"

"That we get a good night's sleep." Peeta teases. I can hear the smile in his voice.

"We appear to have different ideas," I say draining my glass before standing up to face him, pushing my chair aside. Peeta raises his eyebrows. "_Very different._"

"I think I know what you're talking about."

"Show me that you understand."

"Close your eyes." He instructs. I swallow and do as I'm told, waiting for him to move. I'm suddenly hyperaware of every little sound in the room, from the hum of the generator, to the sound of me breathing. I fight the urge to open my eyes and force myself to wait, curling my hands into fists. Nervous energy is rushing through me, electricity buzzes under my skin. I'm just about to speak; to ask what Peeta is doing, when I feel soft lips on mine. A soft gasp escapes me. Peeta's hands rest on my lower back, pulling me closer to him, and my hands fly up to his upper arms, my fingernails digging into the thin material of his shirt.

I can taste the alcohol on his mouth. He's just as drunk as I am.

"Peeta," I whisper when he finally pulls away, only to latch onto the skin on my neck. "What are you doing?"

"I'm showing you that I understand." Peeta breathes, looking up at me, his eyes blazing. His hands slide down to cup my ass, and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling the band of muscles around his torso shifting as he walks me back against the wall, kissing me forcefully, rolling his hips against the cradle of mine. I mewl in delight and Peeta chuckles against my mouth. It's been way too long without this feeling. In the months _before_ Melanie was born, either my stomach or my hormones stopped me from wanting anything remotely sexual with my husband. _After _she was born, we were simply too busy, or too tired to do anything but share a heated kiss or two.

Poor guy. All that time without anything from his wife.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and speak. "Do whatever you want," I tell him, hating the crack in my voice that betrays my nerves. "_Anything_, Peeta."

"_Fuck_, Katniss." He hisses when I reach under his shirt and rake my nails lightly down his back.

"Please." I beg. He kisses me again, my head hits the wall behind me, and our teeth knock against each other, but now it's almost frenzied. The mix of alcohol and pent up frustration has resulted in a relentless flood of want. Peeta tugs my shirt up, over my head, and presses soft open-mouthed kisses down my neck and onto my chest, his hands boxing me in against the wall. I pull his shirt up as well, desperate to see his skin. I laugh when the shirt collar gets stuck on his ears, but the noise is muffled when Peeta begins kneading my breasts through my bra. They've been extra-sensitive due to feeding Melanie, so the sensation is amplified. Peeta removes my bra quickly, letting the garment slide away onto the floor. I stare at his torso, admiring the sharp cut of his hips, the sculpted stomach, the ridiculous broadness of his shoulders.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, latching on to one nipple, lightly tugging on it with his teeth. I arch my back, moaning in relief, my fingers twisting on his broad shoulders. His tongue swirls around the tip of my breast, and his other hands moves down to kneed the other. I push against his chest, squirming under his greedy ministrations, and he releases me, letting me stand on two feet. I stretch up on my toes to kiss him once more, slanting my mouth against his, sliding my tongue over his bottom lip before turning and heading for the stairs, pulling my soft grey shorts from my legs. I'm halfway up the stairs before I hear Peeta's uneven footsteps following me. He shuts the door once we're both in our bedroom, and I pull him by his belt loops down onto the bed, crawling up to him and straddling his waist, feeling the bulge in his pants against my centre. Leaning down to kiss him, my hair falling around my face, I roll my hips against his. He groans, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I begin to kiss down his chest, running my fingers through the patch of soft golden hair upon his chest, when he lips us over so he's above me, resting his weight in the cradle of my hips, propping himself up on his hands and leaning down to kiss me again.

Our bodies move against each other easily, and I can't decide where to put my hands. His shoulders? Neck? Waist? I don't have much time to think, however, because Peeta cups my breast again, squeezing gently and rubbing my nipple with his thumb. I gasp against his mouth, my hips bucking against his. I can feel his erection and I reach down to rub my palm over the front of his pants

"No, Katniss." He says determinedly. His eyes are clouded with lust and almost black in colour as he rips my hands away and pins them above my head. His free hand snakes down my stomach and to the waistline of my panties. His fingers skim across the pale material, and dip down to trace my centre, sending my hips forward towards his hand, desperate to feel the feeling I so badly want. He tugs my panties down, tossing them aside and releasing my wrists. I prop myself up on my elbows as he slides his hands over my bare legs, inching closer to my core. He presses soft kisses along my inner thigh, over my stomach, over my chest, sucking and licking his way over my skin.

"Peeta, please." I beg, opening my legs to him. He glances at me before dipping his tongue into me, forcing my hips down onto the bed, working relentlessly with his mouth. He sucks my clit into my mouth and I groan, tugging harshly on his hair, biting my lip. When he slides a long finger into me, I choke at the feeling. It's _definitely _been too long since this happened. The coil in my belly tightens even further, tighter, tighter, until it springs loose and I fall over the edge, fisting the bedcovers in my hands, arching off the mattress. Once I've come back to myself, I push on Peeta's chest, pushing him back onto the bed and kissing him hungrily, tasting myself on his lips.

"I should do that to you every day," Peeta pants against my mouth. "It's only fair."

"It isn't fair until I return the favour." I say, cupping his jaw in my hands and sliding my tongue over his. I unbutton and unzip his pants, tugging them down his legs. His boxers look uncomfortable, so I make quick work of them as well, and fling them aside, gripping his thighs and taking him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock. Peeta gasps my name, and brings his hands up to his hair, groaning loudly. I bob my head up and down and grasp the base of his cock. His hips begin to thrust upwards so I suck in my cheeks and keep my head still, letting him do the work. A strangled moan escapes from his throat, and I dig my nails into his leg as he comes, swallowing his semen eagerly. He pulls me up, back to his face and kisses me then, closing his eyes and panting raggedly into my ear.

"You didn't have to."

"I know." I shrug.

"Thank you," He whispers, not giving me a chance to thank him back. "Not only for that, but for being such an amazing wife and mother."

"You're welcome," I say, drawing shapes on his chest with my thumb. He kisses me again, and sucks and kneads my breasts until he's hard again and I'm gasping for breath. "You need a condom, Peeta," I say, my clit throbbing between my legs. "We all know what happened last time."

"Would it really be that bad?"

"Yes. It's been four months Peeta. We're not trying to overrun the district with Mellarks." I grin against his mouth and move over so he can find the box of condoms Rye bought him all those months ago. I admire the curve of my husband's ass as he rolls over and digs around in the bedside cabinet. He tosses the box onto the bed and pulls out one of the silver foil squares.

"There aren't that many." He says.

"Anticipating more of this?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Obviously." Peeta rolls his eyes, rolling the condom on.

"I'll see what I can do." Peeta asks me if I'd rather be on top and I agree, deciding to take it easy after all this time. I straddle his waist and grasp his cock, positioning it between my legs before sinking down. After all this time, the sheer size of him is staggering. I gasp once he's fully sheathed inside me, sitting still, my hands fists on his chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut until I get used to the feeling of being so full.

"Are you okay?" Peeta's voice is soft but strained, and he caresses my behind tenderly.

"Y-yes," I splutter. "It's just... wow..." I trail off, and Peeta chuckles. "Just- just move slowly." I shift my hips forward slightly as Peeta thrusts, and the pressure makes my limbs tingle with electricity. I lean down and kiss him, moving slowly. Eventually I get used to the feeling, and I rock back and force, swivelling my hips as Peeta thrusts with a good amount of controlled ferocity. He latches onto my nipples again, kneading them skilfully, and he reduces me to a mewling, quivering mess on his chest after we've both come.

During the night we have sex three more times, Peeta on top, Peeta behind, and I discover my favourite is when we somehow end up on the floor. I'm exhausted and fall asleep content in his arms. He wakes me up in the morning with fresh breath (and I'm hesitant to kiss him back with my morning breath), though I melt underneath him less than two minutes later, crying his name as he moves above me.

* * *

It takes three years before Peeta manages to convince me to have another baby. I kept telling him that we shouldn't, that it was too soon the first time round, and that we weren't prepared.

"I've just turned twenty, Peeta," I say one morning, attempting to get Melanie to eat a spoonful of porridge. She keeps turning her head away at the last moment, and ends up with porridge smeared all over her cheek. "I'm barely out of my adolescent years."

"Yes, but little Mel here has turned out alright, hasn't she?" He replies, straddling his seat and taking the spoon from me. Melanie likes her father the best. I try not to let it get to me, but sometimes, after I've spent the day frustrated because she wouldn't go to sleep, the way Peeta manages to send his child into a deep sleep for a few hours makes me angry.

I hesitate, biting my lip. "I'll think about it."

Peeta looks up and smiles genuinely. "That's all I'm going to ask of you, Katniss. I'm not going to pressure you into anything. I know that the first time around was difficult and upsetting. Tell me if I'm smothering you."

"You aren't smothering me," I say, ruffling Melanie's hair and kissing Peeta on the cheek. "I'll be back by lunch."

But I notice how he looks at the younger children who are carried into the bakery.

I try to hide it, but I notice.

The morning of my decision, I decide to keep Melanie up all day, to keep her busy, so that she'll sleep solidly through the night. At three, she's begun to develop her personality even more, and it's clear that she's just a stubborn as me. This leads to Peeta playing the good guy and getting us to make up. I sit my daughter at the kitchen table and hand her a pack of chunky, garishly coloured crayons for her to use while I cook dinner. I make his favourite meal and set everything out to be ready when he gets home, and when he does, I greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Melly gives him a drawing.

Later that night, after Melanie's been put to bed and Peeta and I are brushing our teeth, I pull the bottle of contraceptive pills my mother gave me from the cabinet under the sink.

"Are you due?" Peeta asks, the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah." I say, staring blankly at the Capitol seal on the bottle cap.

"Are you okay?" Peeta continues, nudging my side. I unscrew the bottle and tip one of the powdery circles into my palm. I swallow, straighten my back, and look up at him in the mirror.

"How much do you want another baby?" I ask. He blinks, considering his answer.

"It's about what you want, Katniss, not me-"

"No. This is about you as well. How badly do you want Melanie to have a sibling?"

"More than the world," Peeta mumbles, looking ashamed. Everything is quiet. I drop the pill back into the bottle, screw the lid back on, and return it to its place on the shelf. "Whoa, what are you doing?" He exclaims. "You're due, Katniss. You have to take it."

"That's only when you don't want to get pregnant." I whisper.

Peeta freezes.

"What does this mean?" He asks steadily, leaning over the sink to spit.

"I want another baby, Peeta." I say, my words getting higher in pitch as I speak. Peeta jerks his head back, and in his haste he bumps it into the cupboard.

"Oh, fuck." He curses, grasping at his head. I laugh and bury my face into his chest.

"I know you want another baby."

"I do." Peeta says, rubbing his head.

"Let's do it," I nod. "Let's responsibly make a baby because we want to, not because we're drunk." Peeta drops his toothbrush into the sink and hugs me, lifting me up and spinning me around in the small space of our bathroom.

That night, I come harder than I ever have before, grasping at his shoulders and wailing.

* * *

After the first six months of trying to get pregnant again, I begin to worry that I can no longer have children for some unknown reason. Peeta tells me that it's okay. That we can keep trying. That they're nothing wrong with me.

Of course, I don't mind the valiant attempts me make. Over the past few years, Peeta has well and truly become more of a man. His voice sunk even lower, his shoulders got broader, and he's become the best father any little girl would want. He's attentive, kind, unselfish, and brave. I'm come to realise that he's not only my husband, but my soul mate. I fell complete when I'm around him, as if I was simply a lost, lonely shell of a person until I found him.

I'm at my mother's house when I first feel it. The twinge in my stomach that sends me hurtling back four years. I drop my cup of tea in shock.

_It's been so long. _

_So many years of tears, shouting, cursing, begging and praying for something like this._

_Now that it's actually here, I'm terrified all over again, returned back to sixteen-year-old me, worried and confused because I was carrying an unwanted child._

_But this child was planned._

"Mommy," I whisper, staring up at her, a hand on my stomach. "I felt something." Mom chokes on her cake and stares at me, then down at the hand on my stomach.

"What do you mean?" She asks. I forget that she doesn't know about Peeta and mine's valiant attempts at a second child.

"Peeta and I... we've been trying for another child for two years."

"You're only twenty one."

"I know."

"Let's do a test to be sure," Mom says, her wide. "Honey, I had no idea."

"I thought there was something wrong with me."

"I'm sure there's nothing wrong with you," Mom says, bustling around the kitchen and pulling her medical bag apart, searching for a test. "Here we are." I feel just as terrified as I was in the apothecary after Haymitch's crude lesson on contraception, though there's now an underlying sense of excitement pulsing through my veins.

"Since when did you have a supply of those things?" I ask.

"Ever since my daughter fell _pregnant_ at sixteen!" Mom exclaims with a grin, whacking me on the head with box before handing it to me. I disappear into the bathroom, pee on the test, and wash my hands, returning back into the kitchen and covering my eyes.

"Mom, I can't look." I say, letting out a breath. Mom pats my arm and sits me down in a chair.

"Well, I'm not going to say anything until you look." I pull my hands away and narrow my eyes at her, before taking the test and glancing down at the screen. The small plus sign that glares up at me. Fear's bony hand squeezes at my chest.

"Melanie's going to have a sibling." I whisper. My mother stands from her seat and hugs me, laughing into my shoulder and kissing my cheek. A tear rolls down my cheek and I smile widely.

"Congratulations, darling. Have you told Peeta?"

"No."

"He'll be thrilled, I'm sure."

"I know he'll be happy, it's just a lot to take in," I admit, wiping at my eyes and laughing at my silliness. "All this time I've felt like I haven't been able to give Peeta what he wanted."

"Oh, Katniss," Mom shakes her head, smoothing down my hair. "Sometimes you really are oblivious. Peeta worships the very ground you walk on." I bite my lip and look down at my flat stomach. I can do this. I want this.

* * *

I rush away from home with the pregnancy test in my hunting bag and Melanie in my arms. I strap her into the highchair we traded for at the Hob, and ransack the kitchen and the pantry, looking for the artfully crafted apron Fenton made Peeta all those years ago. He still has it, and wears it from time to time. Pulling it out, I tie it around my waist and cook dinner, entertaining Melanie and waiting for Peeta to get back from the bakery. My pulse spikes when I hear the front door opening, and Melanie bangs her hands on the tray of her chair, saying 'dada dada dada' over and over again.

"Is that Melly making all that noise?" Peeta asks, smiling widely as he enters the kitchen, putting his set of keys and a paper bag undoubtedly containing some sort of treat from the bakery onto the table. Melly coos and babbles consistently with a few real words mixed in as Peeta lifts her from her chair. "Because she's gonna be in big trouble if it is!" He throws her up into the air and blows raspberries on her stomach, causing her to fall into a fit of giggles. "Hey, Kat. Smells good." He greets me, and I turn around.

"Is that bakery bread?" I ask, opening the paper bag.

"Uh... yeah." He says, returning his daughter to her seat.

"Something wrong?" I ask, acting casual and normal.

"I hid that thing," Peeta says with a smile, gesturing to my apron. "Why'd you get it out?"

"Didn't want my clothes getting dirty." I shrug my shoulders. Peeta pauses, narrowing his eyes.

"Tell me the real reason." He says, reading the text on the apron.

"What does the apron say, Peeta? Say it. Out loud." I say, putting my hands on my hips.

"_Peeta Mellark: Making babies since the age of sixteen," _He says, reading the white text. I wait. Peeta's eyes widen. Bingo, bread boy. You've got it. "Are you pregnant?" He asks, staring at me in disbelief.

"Found out this morning," I reply, finally allowing my lips to curve upward into a wide grin. Peeta lets out a laugh and steps forward, pulling me into his arms, lifting me from the ground. I bury my face into his shoulder and smile. "Are you happy?" I ask.

"Of course I'm happy," Peeta says, pulling back to look at me, his arms around my waist, holding me to him. "This is wonderful news!" I cradle his face in my hands and kiss him, wet tears rolling down my cheeks.

"It finally happened..." I whisper, grinning widely. "I thought it was never going to happen –that there was something wrong with me."

"You were wrong, Kat," He says, kissing my forehead. "There's never been anything wrong with you."

* * *

The next six months are easier than the first time round. I don't get morning sickness. But my craving for chocolate is even stronger.

Blonde-haired, silver-eyed, Hugo arrives in late Autumn.

He's exactly like his father.

* * *

**[One year later]**

* * *

It's springtime. Hugo is making a mess, mashing the flour-and-water dough that Peeta cooked up for his son to play with in his chubby hands. Melanie stands beside him, her nose only just breaching the tabletop. Peeta went out three hours ago, to visit Haymitch. The look on his face sent thrills running through me. It's something about the rebellion. I can tell. I'm by the sink, rinsing dishes and leaving them on the rack to dry.

At first I think that I'm just hearing things- that the persistent, high-pitched noise is something conjured up from my imagination. That it's all in my head. But the noise doesn't go away. _Sirens. _I blink, cocking my head and narrowing my eyes to concentrate and listen.

The sirens that are positioned on towering grey poles around district are supposed to warn us of an impending attack from someone or something outside the district boundaries. When I was young, about Melanie's age, there was a wild storm. Ferocious winds during the night brought down an oak tree from the forest outside the district, and it fell onto the fence. This provided wild animals with an easy access point into the district by simply climbing over the tree and the warped metal squashed below.

Because the Peacekeepers never bothered to patrol the fence, the destruction went unnoticed. It was only when a pack of wild dogs ran through the Seam and into the Merchant Quarters that the dogs were shot, the fence was fixed and the dog meat was burnt. Blind to the starving people around them, the dog meat was thrown away. It was such a waste. When the sirens first went off I was playing out in the street with Dad. He swept me up into his arms and carried me into the house and calmed my heavily pregnant mother as the pack lurched past mere meters from the house, their eyes glistening, drool hanging from their jaws as the sirens screeched.

Melanie tugging on my pant leg brings me back to reality with a frightening jolt. I look down and squeeze her hand reassuringly. Her eyes are so similar to Peeta's. It gives her an unfair advantage when it comes to getting what she wants. I can't say no to those eyes, and she uses that to her benefit.

I call Peeta's name despite knowing that he isn't here, pulling Hugo out of his seat and into my arms, holding Melanie close to me as the sirens ring out and the ground shakes.

"What's dat noise Momma?" Melanie asks, her eyes wide and anxious. Hugo snuggles against my chest.

"I don't know sweety." I reply.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He'll be here in a minute," I say, trying to reassure my children as well as myself. Peeta bursts into the room, his cheeks flushed, and wraps his arms around all three of us, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "What's happening?" I exclaim.

He covers Mel's ears before speaking, his face sombre. "Capitol hovercrafts are coming. They've bombed Seven, Ten and Eleven. They're bombing us next. We need to get out of here _now_."

"The _Capitol?_" I ask, horrified.

"Haymitch and Effie are running about with megaphones, telling everyone to head for the woods."

"Why?!"

"Rescue hovercrafts are gonna save us, now come on!" Peeta exclaims, his eyes worried. He reaches out and takes Hugo, supporting his head with one large hand that almost covers Hugo's small skull. If you didn't know Peeta, you'd think that he was a brute- possibly violent- who used his size and evident strength to bully people. Not that he was a loving father who held his wife and child close to him as if they were the only things that mattered.

"No, Peeta. Tell me what's going on. I don't understand this." I say, yanking Melanie behind me as if she could be used as an object to force Peeta to speak. My husband looks wounded, glancing down at his daughter. My heart cracks a little, but he eventually speaks.

"You know when I worked in the mines?" He asks. I nod.

It was so many years ago now, but I can still remember the feeling of pure terror I felt as I ran through the district, not knowing if my husband was safe or not, whether I would left alone aged sixteen with a baby on the way. "And that I heard rumours about an uprising, and how people weren't happy about being under the rule of the Capitol?" Peeta continues, lowering his voice a substantial amount, glancing around. I frown. What is he looking for? _Cameras_? _Microphones_?

I nod in response, too confused to speak. "I... I haven't lost contact with some of the miners. They know about secret groups of- of rebels who are plotting against the Capitol," Peeta pauses, stepping closer to me and holding my gaze. "All survivors are to be taken to District 13. I want my family to be part of those survivors." He says, smoothing his thumb over my cheekbone.

"District 13 doesn't exist." I whisper.

"That's what I thought."

"Please, just let me get some stuff first." I tell him, letting go of Melanie, pushing her towards Peeta, and racing for the stairs.

"No! Katniss we need to go now-!" Peeta yells after me.

"Wait!" I ignore my husband's pleas and pull some faded drawstring bags from the small closet under the stairs. The sirens seem to get louder and louder as I climb the stairs to steps at a time, a wailing, droning sound that rattles through me. Shivers ripple down my spine. All the information that I've just been told is too much to comprehend in one fell swoop.

_The Capitol._

_District 13. _

_Rebellion. _

All of those words are wrong, all of those things sound so, so wrong. But at the same time they sound dangerously right.

I can hear Hugo crying downstairs, and just louder than the sirens, the soothing tones of Peeta as he tries to calm his children. "Katniss! _Come on!" _He shouts. Racing into Melanie's bedroom, I throw some blankets and toys into one of the bags for Melanie and Hugo, and then I turn into the bedroom Peeta and I share. Skirting around Hugo's crib, I locate Peeta's sketchpad, pencils, my pin, and the box containing the cufflinks Peeta wore at our wedding. I'll have to try and grab my bow and quiver once we're in the forest, before the hovercrafts come- if they even exist, that is. I sling the knapsack over my shoulder and dash down the stairs. Peeta is standing at the doorway with Hugo in his arms and Melanie at his side.

"I'll carry Melly. You take Hugo." He says, passing the baby over to me. I strap him against my chest. Peeta lifts Melanie up into his arms.

"Is this actually happening?" I ask my husband. He nods, eyes wide.

"We'll be okay. Everyone'll be okay." He promises, opening the front door.

Out in the street it's absolute chaos. People are running with carts or armfuls of belongings. I see someone amble pass with a donkey. Peeta and I hurry down the street, following the wave of people advancing forwards, towards the Seam. This makes me think of Mom and Prim. Are they okay? Have they gone to the forest? I throw open the front door of my house when we reach it, yelling out for Mom and Prim. There's a note on the table, stating that my sister and mother have gone to the forest with everyone else and that they'll see us there. Peeta pulls me out of the house by the elbow, and when we reach the fence I see that someone has widened the hole Gale and I've been using for years, and propped the flap of sharp metal up in the air with a plank of wood. Peeta climbs through, and we walk Melanie through. I pass Hugo to his father and follow close behind, ignoring the grumbles of 'hurry the hell up' from various people waiting to get out of the district. I'm in my element in the forest, and dart forward down the small winding trails I'm so accustomed to in order to find the hollow tree containing my bow and arrows. I add them to my rucksack. We're gasping for breath, stumbling up a grassy hill near where Gale and I used to meet, when there's a loud explosion from somewhere in the distance. Everyone pauses and stares in horror as the mushroom-shaped cloud erupts into the air.

"They're here!" Someone screams. "Everybody run!" Only a few people start to move, but there are others that are rooted to the spot, watching the district beginning to burn, at the Capitol hovercrafts that drop the bombs and the ant-sized figures fleeing down below in the valley. We continue on, over the crest of the hill and back into the dense woodland. Animals are fleeing from the scene as well, whinnying and squawking in terror. We reach a clearing after what feels like an eternity of running, and find a small army of helicopters and hovercrafts on standby. Smartly-dressed soldiers with giant '13's printed on the back usher people forward to various aircraft, ordering people to be quick but orderly. I can tell that it's a small percentage of the district in this valley. The loss of life will be great.

I spot Haymitch among the crowd and he waves us over.

"Get into that helicopter. Tell them that I sent you. That you're Lowell's daughter." He says, looking half-sober but ever professional. This whole thing is too organized. They've been preparing for this moment. Lowell's daughter? What has Dad got to do with all this? There's no time for questions, and I rush forward, Peeta on my heels. Melanie is looking around in fright, and Peeta mutters something to her repetitively, trying to keep her calm. Hugo is crying, his red mouth a round 'o'. I shush him gently. We approach the helicopter.

"Haymitch Abernathy sent us. I'm Lowell's daughter." I repeat. The soldier's eyes widen behind his visor. He nods after a moment and instructs us to keep our heads down as the helicopter blades spin above us, whipping the air about, causing a racket. It only adds to the confusion and panic of the situation. "Make sure Dahlia and Primrose Everdeen are accounted for. And Aymee, Farrell, Fenton and Rye Mellark." I order stonily before getting onto the aircraft.

"Will do, Ma'am." The soldier repeats. The glass door slides shut and the ground disappears from beneath us. The next thing I know, I'm in District 13.

* * *

District 13 is an underground maze of endless grey corridors, rooms, and elevator shafts. It's organisation like I've never seen. Everyone knows their place. Their job. Everything is programmed to be perfectly sustainable, perfectly planned. But one of the only flaws to the system is the lack of people. At least two generations of these people have never seen natural daylight. Any disease that contaminates anyone or anything ravages the underground chambers. That's why so many families and young people were being kidnapped. They needed new blood. They were dying out. Our only hope of freedom was breaking down.

After much fighting, I'm allowed to be placed in a room with Peeta, Melanie, and Hugo. Alma Coin, the woman in charge of District 13, insisted that I be in a separate room, away from 'distractions'. I don't like President Coin. She's cold. Calculating. She never has a hair out of place. I don't see her as a flawed human being with emotions. I see her as a robot. Programmed to feel very little. Programmed to hold an indescribable power over everyone.

Those who died in District 12's bombing were mourned. The Undersee's burned in their mansion. Mitch was with them. Peeta said that his friend was finally introducing himself to the Mayor. Rye was caught in the blast. Twill was shot. Delly made it out. Effie and Haymitch made it out. Sae, Ripper, and the owner of the apothecary made it out. The florist made it out. But so many people didn't.

And that was in my district alone.

I spot the Lomenzo twins in the cafeteria one day. They no longer look like the teens I last saw them as. They're hardened soldiers, trained by Coin. I demand to see the Hawthorne clan. Even Gale sheds a tear when he sees us.

"Catnip, you're here." He whispers, hugging me tightly.

"I missed you," I sob into his chest. He's grown as well. Everyone looks so much older. Rory even has the guts to ask Prim out. "I missed you so much."

"I wanted to go back and visit you. They said it was too much of a risk," Gale says, his voice loud in my ear. "You look well, Catnip. Mellark been treatin' you right all these years?"

"He's a keeper," I laugh. "Gale, I'd like you to meet Melanie and Hugo Mellark." Gale is shocked to say the least, but eventually he slaps Peeta on the shoulder, asking him 'how the hell did you manage to knock her up twice?' To which Peeta replies, 'I have no idea'.

* * *

It's soon after my reunion with Gale that I find out the truth of what happened to my father. He didn't just die in an accidental explosion. The Capitol found out about that main group of rebels –which included my father and Gale's- and sent them all to one area of the mine. And then they blew them up. They knew all this time and hoped that killing off a few dusty old miners who wanted to rebel would stamp out a bigger force. But the spark had all ready turned into a full-blown inferno that threatened to swallow up the country. This information only makes me angrier. I spend more and more time in the command room, surrounded by maps and screens and officials who advise Coin on what our next moves should be.

Alma Coin decides to call me the Mockingjay, after seeing the pin that Madge gave me. It's simply Mockingjay this, Mockingjay that. I try to get on with her, but pretty quickily I begin to see the dark side of our president shining through. She doesn't care about those who are killed fighting on the front line. As more and more of the districts join our fight, she begins to train more and more people.

"Miss Everdeen-"

"Mrs Mellark." I correct her as we walk down a corridor.

"Yes," She nods her head. "I would like you to observe the soldiers at work today. I'm sure that you'll be very impressed with how well-trained they are. How efficient and skilful they are." I say nothing as we enter a large room the size of a warehouse. She wasn't kidding when she said that the soldiers were well-trained. They are all the same. They have the same uniform, the same way of holding themselves as they march in perfectly synced blocks. Every bullet hits its target. All their movements are sharp and precise.

It's then that I realise that Alma Coin in building herself an army.

* * *

It's three months in and four days since I last saw Peeta or my children, when there's a shout from outside command, a thump, and the sound of electricity buzzing. Boggs –Coin's second in command- jumps up from his seat, pulling a sleek gun from his belt.

"President, Mockingjay, stay where you are." He says, inching closer to the door.

"Fuck off!" I hear someone shout from outside. _Peeta?_

"Wait, it's just Peeta!" I exclaim, flying across the room.

"Peeta?" Boggs asks.

"My husband." I explain, wrenching open the door. Out in the corridor it's chaos. Two soldiers lay unconscious on the floor. Two more soldiers have Peeta pinned against the floor, and another wrenches the taser from my husband's hand.

"What is going on out here?" Coin shouts, a vein in her forehead bulging out.

"Ma'am, Mr Mellark was causing a disturbance." One of the soldiers reports, saluting Coin. I roll my eyes.

"Peeta, what are you doing?" I ask, crouching down to face him. His face is mashed into the floor.

"Tell these idiots to get off me!" He exclaims.

"Why'd you taser them?"

"Because I need to talk to you."

"And you couldn't have simply requested to be let in?"

"I tried that," Peeta sighs, his chest heaving. "They denied my access."

"So you tasered them?"

"Clearly."

"Soldiers, let him up." Boggs orders. Peeta climbs to his feet and brushes off his 13-issued grey clothes.

"Look, I'm finalising plans. Haymitch will be here in a minute with Gale and Paylor and a bunch of other important people, and then we're going to start talking strategy," I say softly. "I'll be back by tonight."

"This isn't all about _you!" _Peeta snaps. I frown.

"I know it isn't."

"You obviously don't," He retorts. "Since you've been locked up in that damn room for four days now. I haven't seen you. Melly and Hugo haven't seen you. Nobody's seen you, Katniss! All you do is stay in that room and finalise things that are never going to happen. Where has my wife gone? Where has the mother of my children gone?"

"I'm right here!" I exclaim angrily, my hands balling into fists. How dare he accuse me of anything? I'm fighting for _him_!

"No, you aren't," He says stonily. "You aren't Katniss Everdeen –or Katniss Mellark anymore. I don't know who you are."

"Why are you being such an asshole?" I ask. "I'm busy helping out. Unlike you. All you do is complain!"

"_I _complain? I haven't complained in the slightest! I know this is important. I know you're important as an Everdeen. But you need to get your head out of the clouds and spend some time with the people you're fighting for," He pauses. Everyone is silent. My cheeks flush red. "I love you, Katniss. But it's like you don't exist anymore. It's like you're just a name, a rumour. Not actually a person."

"Dear me, you really know how to stir up trouble, don't you boy?" Haymitch chuckles, advancing towards us. I scowl. Peeta curses under his breath.

"_Enough!_" Coin hisses. "At a time like this we do not need _this. _Mr Mellark, return to your children and your job. Mockingjay, back inside, please."

"No." I say, suddenly feeling very tired. Peeta's right. I have lost myself. I've spent too much time looking at facts and figures, determined to fight for my father died for. I've bitten off more than I can chew. Looking back, I realise what I've done. I've cut myself off from those that I need. Those that I love. This underground network has become a prison. I begin to wish that I wasn't so important, because I've spent so long trying to give my all to Peeta, Melanie, and Hugo. I've spent so long being a scowling, stubborn Seam brat. I've spent too long working on being a better person. And now I've thrown it all away. Something pangs in my chest. I miss my family.

"Mockingjay. Back into command," Coin repeats. "That is an order."

"Peeta's right. I'm going back." I say, locking my jaw. Haymitch grins widely. Boggs fights a smirk. Peeta breathes a sigh of relief.

"If you leave, you will be excluded from all future conferences."

"No I won't. You need your precious Mockingjay too much." I reply, before turning on my heel and marching down the corridor. Peeta follows close behind. It's only when the elevator doors close in front of us that I let myself go, falling into Peeta's chest and crying.

"Hey, it's okay." Peeta soothes, all the anger from before disappearing.

"It isn't, Peeta. Stop being a jerk and be angry with me! Yell at me! Call me a bitch!" I say, slumping against his form. "You're right. I'm sorry. But everything is so much worse than everyone thought. So many people are dying. So many people's lives are being ruined. Panem is a mess, and I feel like it's all my fault."

"It's Snow's fault."

"But I should've stopped all this. I should've done something... _anything..._"

"Katniss, stop it."

"And now I've cut you off. Melly, Hugo, Prim, Mom. For fucks sake. I didn't see Gale and his family for six years and now that they're in the same area as me, I never see them! Madge is dead! Mitch is dead! Everyone is damaged. Rye was killed," I swallow, thinking off the mangled mess Rye ended up as. There was so much blood. "I did that."

"You didn't do that, the Capitol did."

"You don't understand! It's my fault, and I should be doing so many things differently but I can't because I feel like I'm being suffocated and I-"

"Katniss! Shut up!" Peeta shouts, gripping my shoulders and shaking me. "Stop beating yourself up about everything that's happened! This isn't your fault!" I blink and shake my head. "I'm angry with you. But I'm also proud of you. So please, stop blaming yourself, and come and be with everyone who loves you. Hugo is crying for you, every single night."

I spend the next week and a half ignoring Coin. Ignoring everyone. I spend time with Peeta. I play with Melanie and Hugo. I shoot arrows with Gale in the training units. I hug my mother.

But despite everything, I'm still exhausted. Everyone tells me not to pile everything onto my shoulders. The voice in my head taunts me at night, images flashing in my head of the destruction around the districts. Burning houses, burning people. Bleeding people. Floods. Complete and utter devastation.

The voice in my head sounds a lot like Snow.

* * *

It takes two long years of fighting before the Capitol falls, leaving Panem a free country. One week later, I'm appointed to execute President Snow as someone who can represent Panem as a fighting, independent nation, and as the daughter of the man who started the rebellion. Haymitch, however, says it's Coin who is to be shot. At first the idea seems absurd. _Me? Kill the person who pushed us to victory? _Haymitch rolls his eyes and explains that Coin has nothing to do with it. That she's as bloodthirsty and power-hungry as Snow. I eventually warm to the idea.

Mom and Prim stand with Peeta's parents and brothers. Peeta holds Hugo against his chest and stands hand-in-hand with Melanie with a determined look on his face in the protection of a group of soldiers. _"Shoot straight." _He tells me. I made a bargain that if anything went pear-shaped my family would be protected.

The circle is deathly silence as I step out into the weak sunshine. A reporter to my left stares into a camera. _"And here is Katniss Mellark, daughter of Lowell Everdeen, taking her spot in the circle to end this tyranny." _My breath steams out in front of me as I walk forward, the eyes of our world fixed on me. Snow kneels in the middle of the concrete, drowning in shackles.

"For you, Dad," I think to myself as I position my feet and notch the arrow into place. The President is much more terrifying up close- all waxy skin and stretched red lips- but he's really just a frail old man. I won't let anything get under my skin. "For everything you died for." I whisper. There's an audible intake of breath from the crowd as I draw back the arrow and take aim, closing one eyes and swallowing. I glance up at Coin. She isn't even watching the execution taking place just below the balcony of Snow's mansion. Closing my eyes, I imagine that I'm in the forest with no one but my father with me. I can feel him guiding me to shoot properly, his calloused hands, soft smile, and gentle words.

I can smell the forest, hear the crickets, feel the cool breeze, taste the clean air. For a minute I'm lost in my memories. And then I open my eyes. I aim the arrow forward, and fire it up into Alma Coin's perfect head of hair. She falls forward, plummeting over the balcony railings and to the ground. In front of me, Snow cackles, blood spurting from his mouth. I smile contently -a strange calm taking me over-as the crowds surge forward, trampling Snow.

Everything has serene feeling to it later that night. Everyone heads home to celebrate with their loved ones. Gone are the days of an oppressive rule. Back in District 13, everyone celebrates by cracking open the rations to eat what they want, when and where want it. In command, the table is cleared of holos and screens and papers to make way for all manners of foods. Peeta and I sit side by side. Hugo curls up in the crook of his father's arm, falling asleep almost immediately. Melanie stays awake for as long as she can, but eventually she falls asleep with her head on my shoulder. We call it a night, give everyone a smile or a hug, and make our way back to our compartment. The elevator ride is quiet. The process of changing Hugo and slipping Melly into some night time diapers is done quickly and efficiently, and twenty minutes later after walking through our front door, Peeta and I strop to our underwear and collapse into each other's arms.

"I love you." I say, kissing his chest.

"I know," He replies. "I love you too."

"I can't believe it's over. I don't think I'm going to actually realise what's happened for a long time."

"It's weird. But it's nice."

"We'll be able to go back to District 12 and be happy and save." I mumble.

"I've never heard anything so beautiful." Peeta grins tiredly, tracing over the burn scars on my shoulder.

"Nothing will ever be the same." I whisper.

"It's a good thing though. Everyone can start fresh. Build up their lives again." Peeta tells me.

"Not everyone," I say, my eyes brimming with tears. "Not Madge. Not Mitch. Not Rye." Peeta's breath catches at the mention of his brother. The loss of lives has been great, but the lives left behind, the lives that were spared, they will go one and flourish and make Panem better. Memorials will be built. People will mourn and celebrate and remember. But Panem was fought for. It was protected by its people –not its government.

And I, for one, am glad that I carry the surname of Mellark while I did it.

* * *

Come talk to me at writingforhugs dot tumblr dot com :)


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